


Into the Wild Blue

by DreamsAreMyWords



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clexaweek2018, Day 1, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Summer, meet ugly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-24 06:03:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 35,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13804983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamsAreMyWords/pseuds/DreamsAreMyWords
Summary: Lexa works at her aunt's ranch every summer and has a simple job: watch the house. Then Clarke Griffin, a spoiled rich girl, drives her car straight into that house. Now Clarke has to work at the ranch to pay off her debt, and they both spend far too much time bickering to cover up the fact that they can’t take their eyes off each other.Meet ugly au where Clarke quite literally crashes into Lexa's life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some of you may remember this from a paradise series I took down last year. I reworked it a bit and am reposting as a silly little two-shot with a happy ending just for the hell of it. Enjoy!
> 
> Title is from Cowboy Take Me Away by the Dixie Chicks. Classic!

[Moodboard](http://dreamsaremywords.tumblr.com/post/171298633195/into-the-wild-blue-by-dreamsaremywords-lexa-works)

 

* * *

 

 

Not a bad view.

That was Lexa’s first thought, as she lounged in a rickety old rocking chair on the porch of her aunt’s house. She idly nudged her foot against the railing to rock herself as she observed the nature around her and breathed in the crisp Tondc air.

Her second thought was to wonder why the hell there was a car hurtling toward her.

For the better part of an hour, she had been comfortably resting on the porch, watching the rare cars that actually appeared speed by on the road in front of the house. There was a car to her left that was driving along when another car came hurtling along from her right...in the wrong lane. Lexa’s foot dropped to the ground as she clutched the arm of her chair with a white-knuckled grip, sitting up straighter to perch on the edge of her chair, eyes widening in alarm. They were going to hit one another head-on and there was no time and nothing she could do to stop it. Lexa watched, horrified, as the cars headed straight for one another. The one on the right veered off in a desperate attempt not to ram the other car; veered off in another direction that was headed straight for the house.

Lexa lunged off the porch just in time, tumbling to the ground and sucking in a strangled gasp through her teeth as the gravel ripped into her palms. The car smashed into the house, destroying the porch swing—the beautiful white swing her uncle had made for her aunt for their twenty-fifth anniversary—and then sat there, obnoxiously red and practically gloating, half-protruding out of the gaping hole it had created in the front of the house.

The sound of the crash continued to echo in Lexa’s ears as she struggled up onto all fours, shaking as she pushed herself to her feet and turned to face the disaster before her. Nausea twisted in the pit of her stomach but there was no time to pay it much mind; she lurched forward toward the smoking car, praying it didn’t blow up, praying there wasn’t a dead body waiting for her. She knew no one had been in the house except her, and thank God she’d decided to hang out on the porch, otherwise she’d be flatter than the pancakes Anya had cooked up for breakfast. She squeezed through the small gap between the jagged wall and the passenger side of the car, her heart pounding against her rib cage as she stumbled through the wreckage and bent down to peer into the window. The windows were tinted too dark to make out much more than a silhouette, but it was moving, thank God.

"Hello?”

The rasp of the voice had Lexa’s breath freeze in her lungs; this person could be injured. She climbed over heaps of debris, brick and glass and shattered photo frames that had her biting her lip and looking away. She forced her way to the front of the car just as the heavily dented driver's door creaked open and a long leg extended. Black boots—the fancy kind with heels—went up to the knee of that leg.

"Hel _lo_ _?”_

Lexa increased her pace at the sound of the stressed voice, consequently tripping and falling flat on her face right in front of that leg. Groaning, she looked up to see a golden head peek out. "Are you going to just lay there all day?”

What the actual hell. It was so unnecessarily rude and uncalled for, especially after the chaos that just happened, that Lexa could do nothing more than stare with her brow furrowed, numb and in shock.

_“Hello?”_

She must be drunk. That was the only solution. Biting back the retort she wanted to utter, Lexa scrambled to her feet and wrenched open the driver’s door the rest of the way, trying to discreetly smell as she leaned in and swiveled her head round to check if there were any other passengers. No alcohol…but there was a subtle sweet aroma, flowery and light. It was so distracting it took Lexa a moment to realize the girl was still waiting for her.

"Help me _out_."

Getting harder not to yell at her. Swallowing hard, Lexa took the girl’s hand in her own sweaty grip, pausing for half a second to marvel at how soft the girl’s skin was. She didn't know whether it was because the girl took such good care of herself or because Lexa’s own hand was just so rough and callused from working. Either way, her hand felt unbelievably fragile. Rich, Lexa remembered with a jolt, eyes flitting toward the ruined car—a cherry-red Mercedes-Benz, as flashy as the girl standing before her. Whoever this was, she was rich and incredibly careless…she’d probably never worked a day in her life. No wonder her hands felt like that.

Lexa helped her out of the car, gripping the girl’s shoulders when she swayed unsteadily on the rubble. Lexa cast her gaze down, lips downturned as she searched for any sign of blood or injury, but there was nothing, not even a wrinkle in her expensive-looking clothing or a smudge on her sunglasses. The girl’s pink cheeks puffed out in a breath as she glanced around the demolished house, dust still hanging in the air.

Without another word, the girl turned and bent, her torso disappearing into her car for a moment. Lexa carefully avoided observing the ass straining against skin-tight leggings. The girl straightened and rummaged through a small handbag until she had both a checkbook and a pen held at the ready. She looked at Lexa expectantly. Lexa looked back at her stunned reflection in the huge sunglasses the girl had obscuring half of her face. "Well?" She gestured with the pen. "How much do I owe you?”

Lexa stared. _Was she serious?_ She thought she could just _buy_ her way out of this? "You don't have enough money,” she said blankly, images of her furious aunt’s face bursting behind her eyes. “You can't have enough money.”

One corner of the girl's pink lips tilted up. She lifted the clutch. "You see this? It's _Louis Vuitton._ I have a dozen more at home. I have enough money, trust me."

Lexa shook her head, fly-away strands from her messy braid falling forward. Still feeling rather numb, Lexa pushed them back from her face and said, "No. I mean you can’t have enough money, because this was worth more than money. My uncle built this house and he died nine years ago.” As she spoke, a very unpleasant sense of dread applied pressure on her gut. Her aunt was going to be devastated…and then she was going to kill her.

White, even teeth sank into the pout of the girl’s glossy lower lip. "Well...I don't know what to do then. How am I supposed to—"

" _LEXA!_ "

Cringing, Lexa looked over the piles of rubble to see her eldest cousin Anya, white-faced with fury and shock, standing in the hole in the front of the house. A pitchfork was at her feet, which she had obviously just dropped (probably a good thing; an angry Anya with a dangerous weapon was never a good combination). "What is this? What happened? Who the hell is she?"

The girl winced a little when Anya pointed at her. But she lifted her head high, straightened her shoulders and said in a clear, cool voice, "My name is Clarke Griffin.”

Anya’s shrewd gaze shifted from the checkbook Clarke held to the car and back to Clarke again. “Griffin…as in _Griffin’s Ark_?”

Clarke nodded, long spirals of blonde hair bouncing, and Anya’s brows shot to her hairline. "Yes. So, as I was telling..." She arched a brow at Lexa, but Lexa said nothing, still staring at her as though this was all just a bad dream. Clarke’s gaze flickered back onto Anya, a snap of irritation infecting her tone, "As I was saying _,_ I can definitely pay for all this."

Lexa would have winced, if she weren’t feeling so surreal right now, because Anya had a short temper and acting blasé about all this was probably the best way to set her off. Anya’s chest expanded as she took in a deep breath, visibly struggling to rein her anger in. Still, when she bent down to retrieve her pitchfork, Lexa absently wondered whether it was going to find a new home in Clarke. " _Money_ can't pay for this,” said Anya, each word hard and fuming. “My uncle built this place with his bare hands. Do you know how devastated my aunt is going to be?" Anya's nostrils flared and the muscles in her jaw flexed as she gritted her teeth. Lexa’s muscles were tense and she briefly questioned whether she should take that pitchfork away from Anya. "You better hope your parents have the best money lawyers can buy, because they’re going to need a lot more money when my aunt’s through with you."

Clarke froze, though the hand holding her pen trembled. Lexa couldn't see her eyes, but she could imagine them widening.

"You can't bring my mom into this,” whispered Clarke, and for the first time, a little fear snuck into her voice. "She’ll _kill_ me."

Anya's hands tightened on the pitchfork. Her jaw worked as though she were fighting not to scream at Clarke; after a long moment, her eyes shifted onto Lexa. “A word, Lexa,” she said shortly before striding several paces away to the hallway. Lexa glanced at Clarke, who looked down at the car as though contemplating whether she could make an escape. Lexa eyed those high boots again; she definitely wouldn’t be doing it on foot, and that car wasn’t going anywhere. She left one last lingering glance at Clarke, hoping the threat was easily conveyed; it must have been, because Clarke sighed and crossed her arms beneath her chest, still clutching her checkbook and pen. The moment Lexa reached Anya, Anya asked quietly, “Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“Good. Could you smell any alcohol on her?”

Lexa shook her head, eyes fixed on the girl, who was point-blank staring at them even as she fidgeted in place. “No, but you should just call the cops anyway.”

“You know we can’t,” muttered Anya. Lexa bit her lip. She’d forgotten this land was technically illegal now, considering the Wallaces had bought them out. They wouldn’t even be able to see about Indra’s homeowner’s insurance without alerting them. Fuck. “They won’t want this bad press to get out. Maybe we could just _threaten_ to sue and they’ll fold and give us what we want.”

“Anya, she’s a Griffin. They have enough money to keep us drowning in paperwork for the next century. We’ll be dead before the house gets fixed, and that’s only if Indra doesn’t kill us first.”

Anya looked up at the ceiling, her eyes unusually bright, and Lexa looked away out of respect. Her own eyes stung as she surveyed the damage. The car had only crashed through the front of the house…everything else seemed miraculously intact. Her uncle had done an exemplary job building this place. If this weren’t so damn tragic, she’d be feeling proud.

“What the hell happened, anyway?”

Lexa shook her head. “I don’t know…I was sitting on the porch swing when she came barreling down the road in the wrong lane. Nearly hit another car. It passed her fine, she swerved and went off-road. I jumped out of the way, she crashed straight into the house.”

“The other car?”

Lexa shrugged. “They didn’t stop. I don’t know whether they were too far ahead or they ran off.”

“They could have been helpful.” Anya rubbed the back of her neck, sighing. Her features hardened as her gaze fell back on Clarke. “We need money to fix this before Indra returns. It’s going to have to be under the table.” Her upper lip curled as she stared, and Lexa couldn’t help but to turn and join her, anger bubbling in her belly. She couldn’t believe the events that transpired in the past ten minutes. She had one job: watch the house. And what happened?

_Some lunatic drove her car into it._

If the girl was uncomfortable with Lexa and Anya’s joint glaring, she didn’t show it. She just stood there, jaw clenched and lips pressed together into a thin line.

“She hasn’t even apologized,” said Lexa, forcing herself to maintain an indifferent impression even as she glared. “I helped her out of the car and she pulled out her checkbook straightaway.”

“Looks like another spoiled rich kid,” growled Anya. “I _refuse_ to have a repeat of Cage. She doesn’t want me to tell mommy on her? Fine. But she _is_ going to pay.”

Lexa nodded in agreement, watching the way the girl shifted her weight from one leg to another, growing antsier by the second. “She looks desperate. She’ll keep quiet. Do you want me to go ahead and collect it from her?”

“No,” said Anya curtly, starting forward; Lexa frowned. “I have a better idea.” She reached Clarke, but didn’t stop at her; she just kept walking on toward the hole in the wall that would be her exit. “I’ll be contacting your mother.”

"Wait!" Clarke started after her, slipping in the rubble. "Look, I’m serious, my mom can’t find out about this! There has to be something else I can do!"

"There's nothing,” said Lexa calmly as she walked forward. Clarke glanced at her, face immediately settling into a scowl. “Like I said, money can’t begin to fix this, but you can begin by paying for—“

"Hang on,” interrupted Anya. Slowly, she turned back to face Clarke. Her eyes were glinting with something like…mischief? Anya’s eyes darted along the ground as she mulled it over. Lexa narrowed her own eyes; it all seemed very played out. What the hell was Anya up to? Clarke’s mother would pay for the damages under the table so her reputation wasn’t tainted, and the day was done with. What else was there to consider? "Maybe..." Anya lifted her gaze, one corner of her lip curled in smug triumph. "Here’s what’s going to happen. _You_ are going to work _here_."

"What?" Lexa and Clarke both blurted.

"You heard me. Oh, make no mistake, you’ll be paying for real, too. You’ll pay to get this piece of shit towed off our property,” she nodded toward the car, ignoring Clarke’s outraged, offended expression—clearly she was touchy about her car. “You’ll pay for the supplies. But you’re also going to pay in manual labor, too, until you've paid off your debt."

"But—but I don’t work—”

"You're _going to work here,”_ said Anya in a dangerous tone that shut Clarke up immediately. "Unless you want me to go straight to your mother.”

Clarke was silent except for the short little breaths she was taking. Finally, she whispered, "Okay. How will this work?”

Anya opened her mouth to snarl out a response, but before she could, another voice broke the silence. Lincoln was calling for Anya from the distance, informing her of the arrival of the morning delivery. Anya spared one last glare at Clarke as she began to back away. “Lexa, you know the work times. Let her know the schedule.”

Lexa watched Anya march off, unsure if she was more annoyed at Anya leaving her with Clarke, right now or the fact that Anya’s brilliant idea meant she’d be forced to see this girl again.

“What the _fuck?”_ fumed Clarke, rounding on Lexa at once, and Lexa really didn’t have time to consider why Clarke had remained somewhat silent and polite around Anya, but apparently had no qualms about going off on Lexa. “Why would you want me to work here? I’ve never worked a day in my life! What good could I be?”

“It’s a hundred acre ranch,” said Lexa coldly. “There are plenty of things to do and we can always use another hand.” It wasn’t a lie. They used to always have a healthy stream of eager workers every summer, but since the Wallaces took over the land, people weren’t exactly lining up at their doors. Truthfully, Lexa didn’t know why the hell Anya would think this was a good idea, apart from the fact that, as she’d mentioned, she didn’t want to deal with another Cage.

“This is ridiculous,” continued Clarke. “There has to be another way.”

“You’re going to rebuild that house,” said Lexa, narrowing her eyes to hide her puzzlement. Her commanding tone normally inspired fear, at least with the farmhands that used to come every summer—even when she was a kid, it had them looking over their shoulders. But Clarke only set her jaw. “Get over it. My cousin won’t change her mind.” Lexa walked forward until she was so close to Clarke that Clarke had to take a step back in order to maintain angry eye contact. "Be here tomorrow, before sunrise. Four sharp."

"In the _morning_?" squeaked Clarke, mouth falling open in horror as the hand holding the pen came up to clutch at her chest.

"In the morning. We work sunrise to sunset.”

Clarke was motionless as Lexa slipped around her and reached into the car, turning the key to start the engine. It was clearly on its last legs now, but it at least looked like it would pull out of the house.

"What are you doing?" snapped Clarke, marching over to Lexa’s side.

"I suggest you get in the passenger side. I'm backing this out."

Clarke thundered over to the other side of the car and slammed the door as she slid in. When Lexa shut her side, Clarke said, "I could've done it myself you know."

Lexa twisted in the comfortable seat, peering out the back while she carefully reversed the car. "I know. But I think I have reason not to trust your driving skills, don’t you?”

Clarke flushed. "It was an accident."

"Whatever." Once the car was back on the deserted road, Lexa opened the door and climbed out, shutting the dented door behind her before leaning into through the window to speak. "You should be lucky the other driver didn't stick around. You deserve to be sued.”

Clarke lifted a hand to her face, drew off her sunglasses, and all at once, Lexa lost any words she wanted to say. Blue. So blue. The bluest eyes she’d ever seen, fringed by long, thick lashes. She was...well, pretty would be an understatement. The girl was absolutely gorgeous.

Lexa was speechless as Clarke hitched herself up and over the console to settle herself into the driver's seat. Her face was an inch from Lexa’s as she glared at her with those magic eyes and said, "I'll thank _you_ to shut the hell up, and mind your own business. Now move."

Lexa stepped back, watched her roughly shift the gear. Clarke put the sunglasses back on and didn't even spare her a glance as she drove off. Lexa watched her go, still shaken.

 

Well, great.

 

Clarke Griffin was an asshole, and Lexa was so, so gay. And they had to work together now.

 

Fucking great.

 

 

 

\\\

 

Day 1

 

 

The air was crisp at four am. Smiling grimly, Lexa briskly rubbed her hands together before bending and gripping the shovel, lifting and burying it in the pile of manure that stood high in the horse stables.

Clarke Griffin was late.

Only fifteen minutes, but still. Late is late. Anya wasn't very happy about it, but Lexa? She huffed with satisfaction as she shoveled the manure. She was glad she wouldn't have to deal with her. She had enough stress to deal with, and knowing some rich girl was trying to do honest farm work stressed her out. Especially when it involved her aunt’s house being rebuilt.

“Heard you got a new girlfriend, Woods.”

Lexa’s mouth immediately set into a scowl as she stood straight and wiped the sweat off her forehead with the crook of her elbow. She glanced at Ontari, her least favorite cousin, as she shuffled into the stables with her biceps flexing with the effort of carrying a bag of feed nearly as tall as she was.

“Excuse me?”

“That’s the word around the ranch,” said Ontari after she’d set the bag down with a grunt. “Lincoln said you found yourself a princess. Is she really as hot as he claims?”

“Lincoln’s huffing paint. Where is he, anyway?”

“He’s out oiling the equipment and don’t change the subject. Answer me.”

She ignored Ontari; she’d found long ago it was the quickest way to escape her. Sure enough, Ontari laughed quietly under her breath as though she knew something Lexa didn’t and wandered off.

By the time Lexa finished her morning chores, it was a quarter past five. She paced around impatiently for a time, eager to get on with the rest of her chores, but if she did that then Clarke would have nothing left to do. She should have waited and left shoveling manure to Clarke; that would have certainly been a sight to see. To while away the time, she began grooming her favorite of her aunt’s horses. She'd just moved the brush to its flank when an unfamiliar car (was that seriously a blue Porsche?) drove up the lane. Lexa’s heart sank and there was an unpleasant fluttering in her stomach. She watched in disapproval as Clarke emerged, wearing those big sunglasses again, and wearing—what the hell?—a skirt and blouse…and _heels_. What did she think she was going to? A party? A debutant ball?

Clarke didn't even acknowledge Lexa's existence as she marched past her, heading straight for Anya, who was currently busting her back helping Lincoln lift piles of feed out of the truck. Clarke cleared her throat to let Anya know she was there, and Anya turned. The obvious anger and disdain in Anya’s eyes had Lexa let out a low whistle, which Clarke also ignored.

"You're late." Anya didn't say it as a question.

"Yeah," was all Clarke said in return.

Lexa observed Anya's expression carefully. She didn't seem in danger of losing her temper. She only closed her eyes, briefly. When she opened them, she said, "All right then. You'll stay late."

"What?" Clarke made a noise of disbelief, which Lexa echoed. Did she think she wouldn't have consequences? She was almost two hours late! "How late?"

"You’ll make up the time you missed." She glanced at the watch on his wrist. "Which is one hour and forty-two minutes, but we’ll just round it off to two hours. You would've left at five. Now you’ll stay until seven.”

Lexa studied the way Clarke’s fists clenched, and for one wild moment she wondered if she was going to throw a punch at Anya (and God knows how that would end, probably with Clarke buried in the pasture and Lexa having to nervously explain to Indra why the dog had dug up a human bone a year from now).

Clarke relaxed, fingers unfurling from her palm. Her voice was tight as she asked, "What am I supposed to be doing now?”

Anya gestured toward Lexa. "Go to Lexa. She's done with her chores, so she can babysit you for the day and show you the ropes.”

Lexa's mouth fell open before she closed it with a snap. She angled her glare at Anya, squinting in the sunlight. "I don’t want her.”

Anya shot Lexa a look that quieted her at once, but before she could say anything, Ontari shouldered past Lexa, snorting. " _You_ were the one watching house when she crashed into it."

Lexa tightened her grip on the grooming brush, clenching her jaw. "What was I supposed to do, stop the car with my body?"

Ontari glanced at Lexa over her shoulder as she walked off in the direction of the pond. "Maybe."

“Shut up, Ontari,” said Anya with a roll of her eyes, shaking her head and following her toward the house. Lexa gritted her teeth and lifted the brush up. This time she was the one to ignore Clarke when she came to her side. Neither of them said anything as she resumed brushing the horse and finished up. Finally, while she was walking back to the barn with Clarke shadowing behind her, she turned around. "Are you planning to actually do any work today?”

Clarke looked at Lexa with virtually no emotion on her face. "I’m not a fucking mind reader nor did I grow up in the boondocks. You're the babysitter. You tell me."

Lexa’s nostrils flared as she turned once more. She changed direction and headed for the chicken coop. When she pointed, Clarke only stared at her blankly. "What?"

"This is your first job at the start of the week. When you drive over here, first place you go is here. I want you to collect all the eggs and bring them into the house."

"The house I crashed into?" she said in surprise.

"Yes. You only crashed into the porch and one side of the living room. The kitchen works just fine. So every morning, take the eggs in there. It’ll take you more than one trip, we have twenty-six chickens so you should be collecting at least a hundred.”

Clarke’s jaw dropped. “They lay that many a day?”

“No,” said Lexa, quite proud of herself for keeping most of the exasperation out of her voice. “I said at the start of the week.”

“What makes you think I’ll be here a week?”

Lexa stopped in place, turning to survey Clarke in disbelief. “Do you actually think you’ll pay back your debt in a matter of days? You’ll be here the entire summer, at least.”

“I have to work here for _two months?_ ” She gaped, and when Lexa did nothing more than stare at her, she groaned and ran a hand through blonde locks, cheeks puffing as she blew out a breath. “Just fantastic. Okay, great, whatever, tell me what I need to do.”

“Go. Collect. The. Eggs.”

Clarke’s nose wrinkled in distaste as she poked her head into the coop. "It smells."

"Chickens defecate, Clarke. Of course it smells.”

It took Clarke almost an hour to collect all the eggs, and that wasn’t an exaggeration. Lexa had barely been able to restrain herself from snapping at Clarke each time she heard her squeal because she'd touched something unsavory or a chicken came too close to her. It was pathetic, and had Lexa crossing her arms over her chest and dropping her head back against the wall she leaned against, closing her eyes and flaring her nostrils as she focused on her breathing. Anya did this to torture her, she decided. When Clarke finally came out, struggling to juggle the various baskets the remaining eggs were nestled in, she looked at Lexa with a half revolted, half wondering expression and said, "That was the first time in my life I've ever touched a live chicken."

Lexa gave her an incredulous look as they started toward the house. "You've never touched a chicken? Ever?"

Clarke shook her head. "No. And I had never planned to. Gross."

“Jesus.”

The rest of the day went by...well, not smoothly, but not as bad as she thought it would be. It wasn't until it was time to start working on the house when things became a little…rough. Clarke had accidentally gotten paint in her hair. Lexa eventually had to cut across her complaining with a frustrated, "It's your own fault! Why would you come to work with your hair down? And why would you show up wearing _that?_ " She gestured at her clothes. "Tomorrow, wear something...else. Something _smart.”_

Clarke definitely didn't like that. Her pale cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. "Shut up! Just because I have to work here doesn’t mean I have to look fifty shades of hillbilly like the rest of you.” She threw down the cement she was holding. "It's seven! I'm leaving!"

As she stormed off, Lexa glanced at the clock on the wall. Actually, it was only half past six.

 

_Asshole._

 

 \\\

 

Day 8

 

"Hey, Lexa!” Ontari pounded on the door. “Hurry the fuck up, you’re hogging the bathroom."

Lexa sighed and exchanged a bemused glance with her own reflection in the mirror. She was a morning person usually, but since she’d taken on the extra job of apparently babysitting Clarke Griffin, she’d been going to bed later and later. It was exhaustion, she told herself, not the fact that it was hard to get a pretty, sassy blonde out of her head.

"I’ll be out in a second," Lexa grumbled, reluctantly grabbing her toothbrush out of the holder.

"Good, because Ryder said Princess is already here and waiting for you."

Lexa nearly dropped the toothbrush in surprise. "She's already here? But it's three in the morning!"

"I know right?” Ontari’s smirk could be heard in her voice. “He said she’s looking pretty hot, too. So move it.”

Lexa hastily brushed her teeth in a vague panic. Why would Clarke be here so early when she’d been late every day the past week? How could anyone look hot at three in the morning? Ryder was an idiot, so he was probably just being dramatic. Clarke could probably show up in a trash bag and he’d think she was hot. Though, if anyone could pull that off, it would probably be Clarke…

Once she was ready, Lexa headed outside. And stopped, her eyes widening, when she spotted Clarke at the newly fixed wall, precariously balanced on a rickety old ladder, painting the drywall they’d just finished mudding and taping yesterday.

 _And fuck,_ she did look hot.

She wore frayed jean shorts that were probably too short to be categorized as appropriate. The loose white top she wore—Lexa was certain there was a name for the style but she wasn’t exactly versed on names of fashion; it was loose, white, and had holes that exposed the shoulders, that’s was all she could note—wasn’t the best choice for painting, but at least her hair was out of her face, wound together in a one-sided ponytail that tumbled over one of her shoulders. And for once (maybe it was because it was still mostly dark outside), she didn't have those big sunglasses on. Her face was flawless. The dimple in her chin, the perfect little nose, the arched, golden-brown brows, the clever blue eyes. It annoyed Lexa that someone could be so rich and so attractive.

Most surprising of all was the fact that Clarke was working in silence. The past week she’d jumped at every chance to complain, or insult their livelihood, or point out all that was wrong with Lexa’s fashion choices. When they braced the porch, Clarke complained about the weather and its effect on her hair (it was lightly drizzling). When they framed the walls, she’d spent more time insulting Lexa’s old boots than actually doing work. When they put in insulation she threw a fit about touching it. When they put up the lap siding and replaced the windows and put up the drywall, she made snide comments about Lexa’s ratty old shirt. Lexa spent the majority of the time snapping back at her, ignoring Clarke’s outrage and reminding her how lucky she’d been that she only ran into the living room, no broken pipes so no water damage. Lexa had suffered through an entire week of that, so seeing Clarke now was something else. Now she was quietly painting the wall with what seemed like practiced strokes. Perhaps Anya’s close-to-death threats to her yesterday when she caught Clarke sitting on her ass while Lexa gathered the equipment up actually worked.

Lexa cautiously approached her much the same way she would a cornered animal. "Who are you and what have you done with Clarke Griffin?”

Clarke jumped a little, teetering on the unsteady ladder she stood on. When she regained her balance, she glared at Lexa. "What?"

“You’re here. Early. Actually working without me having to point your way. And—“ Lexa gestured at her outfit. "You're wearing more suitable clothes, unlike the actual jumpsuit and heels you wore yesterday.” One of her shoes had broken, and as entertaining as it was for the entire family to watch Clarke gripe at Lexa as though it were her fault, it made the rest of the day a living hell.

Clarke gave a haughty sniff as she turned, focusing on the painting again. _Well fine,_ thought Lexa. _Two can turn a cold shoulder._ She grabbed a bucket and a brush and headed outside, setting up just beside the open window so she could still keep an eye on Clarke. She went over to the paint can, dipped a second paintbrush into it. After she began her own painting, Clarke’s voice drifted through the window to say lightly, "You’re watching me pretty closely to pay such attention to what I wear, you know.”

“I—“ Lexa’s eyes snapped up to latch onto Clarke through the window as she spluttered, a flush creeping up her neck to warm her face. “That’s my job.”

“Watching me is your job?” Clarke pursed her lips with an arrogance that had Lexa immediately gritting her teeth, not bothering to even look her way as she painted a few more strokes. “Lucky you.”

“You sure like to flatter yourself, don’t you?” Lexa shook her head, swallowing and ignoring the small flutter in her shoulder and the way her cheeks still burned. “Cute you have to make up stuff like that to make yourself feel better.”

Clarke paused from painting to dip her head through the window just so Lexa could clearly see her roll her eyes. “You’re such a joke.”

" _I'm_ a joke?"

"Yes," replied Clarke matter-of-factly.

"This coming from the girl who drove her car into a _house._ "

Clarke scowled at Lexa. Without a word, she withdrew from the window. Annoyed, Lexa resumed her own painting. They worked without interruption for another ten minutes, before Lincoln returned from where he’d been helping the others move the cattle to graze at another pasture, and approached Lexa and Clarke with amusement. "She really doesn't like you," he said.

"I really don't," Clarke agreed from the other side.

"I don't like you either,” said Lexa irritably. “You’re a spoiled brat and I can’t wait until I don’t have to deal with you anymore.”

She heard Clarke made a strangled, angry sound. There was a crunch as she hopped off the ladder and threw her paintbrush down. "I'm taking a _break,_ " she said heatedly. As she stomped off Lexa called after her, " _Good!_ "

Nyko, who had just came to Lincoln’s side, snickered. Bemused, Lexa shook her head and resumed painting.

Lincoln sighed. "How long do you think she'll have to work here?"

"Anya mentioned earlier that it might take all summer to fix up the house."

 _No way._ Lexa was not dealing with her all summer long. No fucking way. There had to be some way to get rid of her. Thoughtful, she absently tapped the handle of the paintbrush against her palm. Then it came to her in one sudden stroke of glorious inspiration. "We're going to run her out."

Nyko’s brow furrowed. "How? Anya'll be too busy working us for any of us to find the chance to—"

"Then we'll get the ones she doesn't work too hard." Lexa cut across him.

Lincoln and Nyko exchanged grins. Lexa echoed it. They were all thinking the same thing. If there were any two people in the world who were brilliant at pranking people, it was...

"Emori! Otan!”

Lincoln, Nyko, and Lexa hurried toward the twins. Only a few years younger than Lexa, they were still the authority on pranks. Lexa practically beamed at them.

"We have a job for you,” Lincoln grinned.

"That will require the utmost secrecy." Lexa smirked.

Otan and Emori both blinked, then narrowed their eyes. "How much will you pay us?" asked Otan.

"Ten dollars each," offered Lexa.

"Twenty each or no deal,” ordered Emori. She exchanged a smirk with Otan.

Lexa stared at them. _Ugh, fine._ She pulled her wallet out of her pocket and withdrew two tens. When Emori and Otan opened their mouths to protest, Lexa said, "The other half goes to you when you finish the job."

"Deal!”

Quietly, Lexa explained to them that she simply wanted them to terrorize Clarke until she ran off the ranch screaming. They agreed. They even seemed pretty excited.

Lexa couldn't stop smiling as she walked back to the house. Clarke narrowed her eyes suspiciously when she passed by the window to take up her spot again.

"What?" she asked innocuously, unable to keep the chuckle out of her voice.

Clarke put her nose in the air. "Hmph." She climbed up the ladder again, so all Lexa was left with were glimpses of shapely legs. Whatever.

Lexa was smug as she plucked up her paintbrush. With Emori and Otan against her, Clarke wouldn't last a day.

 

\\\

 

Day 9

 

 

_Lexa Woods was such an asshole._

Clarke Griffin thought those words again and again as she drove down the empty, winding roads of Tondc county in her _last_ car. She puckered her lips, leaning forward in the seat to bracingly rub her hand on the side of the car. _My poor baby. Let’s hope I don’t crash you, too._

And she _hadn't_ meant to, she really hadn't! Who would? Who would deliberately ram their car into some hick's house? It's not like she had _tried_ to fall asleep at the wheel. It just happened. She sighed, propping her elbow on the windowsill of the car and cupping the side of her face in her palm. That was the second time she'd fallen asleep while driving. That was why her mother could not, under any circumstances, find out. She would take the car away if she did. She'd been furious when she found out Clarke had crashed her first car into a tree. She was so mad, and that was just a tree. Think of what she'd do if she found Clarke had crashed into a _house._

That was the reason why she was going through with this 'working' bullshit. Just thinking about that ranch—about Lexa—made her grip the wheel so tightly her knuckles shone white. Anger provided warmth in her stomach as she turned the car into the gas station. As she waited for the gas to finish pumping, she went over what she'd overheard back at the ranch in her head.

Lexa Woods—that _jerk_ \- had paid two twelve year olds (thirteen? Eleven? Who knew) to sabotage her. To run her right off the ranch.

How _rude_ was that?

Lexa paid them to be deliberately cruel to her. What a brilliant lesson to teach little kids. Kids who obviously needed help already, as one of them sported a cast on her arm and the other had bandages all over his chin, presumably from the two of them falling out of a tree or being run over by an errant cow or something.

Clarke grinded her teeth together as she replaced the nozzle and slapped the gas tank shut. What had she ever done to Lexa Woods? Besides crash her car into her aunt’s house, of course. But that didn't really affect _her._ Unless her aunt was going to be pissed at her, but why would she be? It’s not like Lexa could have leapt in the way and stopped her car with her psychic powers. It was Clarke’s fault.

Clarke suppressed a yawn as she climbed back into her car to resume her drive to the ranch. God, it sucked having to wake up at the crack of fuckin dawn to go waste her time. She didn’t understand why couldn't she just _pay_ them and they could all move on with their lives. She had more than enough money. Enough that her mother wouldn't even notice. But no, the idiot ranch hands had to decide only manual labor could fix the ruined house, as some sick plot of karmic retribution. Jerks.

Clarke arrived at the ranch an hour early. That's right, an hour. She was making sure to be an hour early every day so Lexa couldn't complain, and Anya couldn't look peeved again. Speaking of Anya...she spared Clarke a glance as she walked in front of her parked car, lean muscles bulging as she carried a small bale of hay that, holy shit, was probably still pretty heavy. Not going to lie, Anya was a little scary (Clarke would die before admitting that). She definitely had a temper. Seemed like the smallest thing could set her off. Which was why Clarke was working so hard not to be that smallest thing.

Clarke strode towards the chicken coop without bothering to find Lexa. Lexa could find Clarke herself. The disgusting smell of animals and their shit invaded her nose as she entered after grabbing the baskets that waited for her outside of it. Ugh. Just ugh. Figured that Lexa would make her do so that she would smell like crap for the rest of the day. Seriously, who was the idiot who first looked at a chicken and thought, _hmm, I'm gonna go collect the hard white ball that falls out of its ass, and then I'm gonna eat it?_ Gross.

Clarke avoided touching the chickens as much as possible as she gathered the eggs. They did feel nice and soft, but who knew how many diseases were clinging onto those feathers?

As she was walking back to the house with them, she caught an interesting sight. The twins were hiding at the side of the house, just barely visible. They seemed to be arguing about something. Maybe even fighting. The girl was slapping the boy’s wrist, apparently trying to grab the string from him. As they continued in the relatively silent struggle, the string lifted, shimmered. Comprehension dawned. They were going to try and trip her so she'd fall on her face and break all the eggs. Carefully, she stepped over the string. They were so busy arguing they didn't even notice. She smirked a little as she entered the house.

Then gasped. A bucket of water had been perched precariously on the top of the doorway. When she opened the door, it tipped over and a cascade of freezing water splashed over her. Her mouth was hanging open in shock as she stood there, dripping wet and freezing her ass off. She'd worn jean shorts again today. They would stay wet forever! And her shirt was Burberry!

Clarke whirled, anger flaring. The twins were nowhere to be found. A dozen expletives ran through her mind as she stomped into the kitchen. She bit her tongue so she wouldn't shriek them, and distracted herself with a towel to dry off with so she wouldn't hunt down the twins and beat them with the baseball bat she always kept in the trunk of her car.

She heard a chuckle behind her. She spun around to find Lexa leaning against the wall, her arms folded beneath her chest and a broad, lazily satisfied grin on her face. The fury almost hurt Clarke’s stomach.

"What the hell are you looking at?" she snapped.

"You're wet."

Clarke flushed. She turned her back to Lexa, picking up the towel from the ground and wringing her hair in it. When she faced her again, Lexa’s eyes snapped up to hers. Which told her Lexa been looking right at her ass. Good, if she liked girls, that was something Clarke could work with. Her expression hardened. "Perv," she said, throwing the towel at Lexa’s face and then returning her attention to the eggs.

Lexa caught it and tossed it on the kitchen table, but Clarke didn’t miss the way her cheeks turned pink. "Excuse me?"

Clarke turned around and barely resisted the urge to take a step back. Lexa was in her personal space. But Clarke refused to step back. Instead she gave her best sneer. "Normally I would tell you to stop playing dumb. But with you, I don't think it's playing."

Lexa scowled. "At least I didn't get a bucket poured on my head."

Clarke matched her scowl. Lexa’s admittedly pretty green eyes narrowed as hers did. For a moment, they glared, sizing one another up.

Damn it, Clarke hated how attractive she was. Vivid green eyes, that fucking jawline, and God, shouldn’t it be illegal to wear a tank top that exposed arms that lean and muscular? _And those tattoos…fuck._

"So fuck you,” added Lexa.

"You would, " countered Clarke.

Lexa blushed, but her hard glare didn’t waver. "When hell freezes over. Twice.”

Clarke smirked. "Perv," she repeated. And with that, she turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving the eggs for Lexa to sort.

 

\\\

 

Lexa really didn't like that girl.

Grudgingly, she put up the rest of the eggs in silence. She had just made a complete fool of herself, not just because she'd lost an argument with her, but because...she had been so attracted to her. Don't ask her why. She hadn't the faintest idea. She didn't even like her. It was just basic biology...she was a really hot girl, and she was standing right in front of Lexa in a dripping wet, white top. Wearing what looked like a lacy blue bra underneath it that matched her eyes. Yeah. And if that wasn’t enough, then she gets caught staring at her ass.

"Hey, Lex. You seen Clarke?" It was Anya. She didn't look too happy. Then again, Anya never looked too happy, and especially not when their most obnoxious cousin, Ontari, was at her side.

Anya had had a pretty rough life. Her mother had been a drug addict and her father had been AWOL. When her mother was thrown in prison, Anya was stuck with her alcoholic step-dad, who'd only been married to her mom for a month before she was thrown in jail. Lexa wasn't too sure on all the details...she knew Anya's stepfather was pretty much worthless, and he was thrown in jail when Anya was eleven. Anya has lived with Lexa's aunt ever since. Lexa was pretty sure her aunt was the only one who can handle Anya. Lexa was so sure on that because, once a few years back, Anya had gotten into a fight with one of the extra ranch-hands, and Lexa's aunt was the only one who could calm Anya down. Which was good, because Anya was one punch away from literally killing the ranch-hand, who never came back after that.

Ontari, on the other hand, still lived with her mother. Nia, who detested the ranch but always forced Ontari to work there every summer break, probably so she didn’t have to deal with being a mother, because Ontari was away at boarding school the rest of the year. Lexa would feel sorry for her, if Ontari wasn’t such a mouthy brat. She was a year younger than Lexa but always up for challenging her, as she never failed to remind her. Though she’d never respected Lexa, she had always admired Anya—nearly to the point of idolizing her. It disgruntled Anya, but her lack of patience never deterred Ontari, who followed her around like a puppy, eager to learn from her and eager to please her.

Lexa realized that Anya and Ontari were staring at her expectantly, waiting for an answer. Lexa shook herself out of her reverie. "No. I mean yeah. She was here a minute ago."

"You know where she went?"

Lexa studied Anya for a moment. She wondered if Anya looked intimidating to people who didn't know her. She had lean, corded muscles from working, but that wasn't quite it. It was more the expression...the utter confidence and steel that shone in her amber eyes. She looked like someone who knew she could pummel you (and she definitely could).

"No. She seemed pretty hacked though. She'd managed to dump a bucket of water over on herself." Lexa held Anya's gaze steadily. Hopefully Anya wouldn't realize she was lying, but...sometimes Anya was weird like that. Like she could read minds.

"Hm." Anya lowered her gaze to the little puddles on the kitchen tile. Her dirty-blonde hair had fallen into her eyes. She swept it back with a jerk of her head as she looked up at Lexa. "Tell me when you find her. She needs to make a supply run, and you're going to supervise."

"What?" Lexa said indignantly. She set down the last egg in the fridge and closed the door. "Why? I'm not her babysitter."

"You are, actually." Anya's voice took on the hard tone she got when she meant business. And Anya always meant business. "No one else is going to do it.”

"Besides,” piped up Ontari, wicked grin on her face. "You're out of a job, remember? You were supposed to watch the house, and you couldn't even do that. So now you have to make sure it's fixed."

"Shut up, Ontari,” said Lexa and Anya.

Ontari’s grin just widened.

“Why me?” asked Lexa, shifting her gaze back onto Anya beseechingly. “Why are you sticking me with her like this, Anya? Do you actually blame me for this?”

“Of course not,” said Anya irritably. “I’m sticking you on her because I trust you. You aren’t going to use her as an excuse to slack off, being a lazy shit while she does all your work. You’re not going to torture her, but you’ll keep her busy and get our money’s worth. You’re around the same age as her. And you won’t take any shit from her. Plus, I know you have a weakness for pretty blondes so I thought I’d do you a favor.”

Lexa blinked where she might otherwise have goggled. " _Why?_ She's a—“ Lexa faltered under Anya's glare. "She's rude."

 _"She's rude!_ ' " mocked Ontari. "You’re such a pussy, Lexa.”

"You are what you eat,” said Anya, smirking a little.

Lexa’s cheeks set on fire. “Ugh, Anya!”

Nyko and Lincoln filed into the kitchen, a half-eaten apple in Nyko’s hands. "What are we talking about, cousins?”

“Princess,” supplied Ontari.

Lincoln’s laugh was big and booming, much like the rest of his towering self. “And Lexa’s crush on her?”

Lexa scowled, shoving Lincoln’s hand off her when it landed on her shoulder. "Shut _up_."

Lincoln sobered a little as he reached for a banana. He sat down and started peeling it as he said, "Come on, Lex, you know we're just giving you a hard time. You still sore for that Costia girl?”

"No," Lexa said honestly. "I'm over her. And I do _not_ have the hots for Clarke Griffin.”

"Why not?" Nyko chuckled as he sat backwards in the chair closest to “The fact that you can’t seem to mention her without saying her full name is a little telling.”

Lexa scowled. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Nyko kicked one of Lincoln’s chair legs with the toe of his steel boots. "Look at her blushing like a schoolgirl.”

Lincoln chuckled. “How old is she, anyway? We aren’t going to get sued for child labor laws, are we Ahn?”

"I checked up on her," said Anya. "She'll be nineteen this year. A few months after Lexa, actually.”

"Hah." Nyko lightly slapped Lincoln’s with the back of his beefy hand. “They’re perfect for each other.”

“The least you could do is fuck her,” said Ontari slyly. “Or have you forgotten how—“

"Shut up—“

"Enough," Anya interjected. She looked at Lexa and said sharply, "Go find her, and tell her to get her checkbook ready."

"Where are they going?" asked Lincoln as he tossed his banana peel into the open trashcan sitting beside the fridge.

"Princess is going to buy us some more wood and paint." Anya gestured at Lexa. "Get a move on."

A muscle in Lexa’s jaw was jumping as she hunted down Clarke. She found her kneeling at front of the house, trying to reach the paintbrush into a little cinch in the side of the trim. She glanced up at Lexa, almost immediately returning her attention to the paintbrush after her lips pursed in distaste. "What do you want?"

"Get up. We're going to a couple stores. And you're buying."

Clarke stood, her mouth falling open in outrage. "You're out of your freaking mind if you think I'm—"

Lexa scowled down at her. "Orders from Anya."

Clarke fell silent. She looked furious. Finally, she clenched her hands into fists and spat, "Fine. You better not stain my car with your filth, though."

Lexa gave her an innocent smile. "Again I repeat: fuck you."

Clarke upturned her nose. "And again _I_ repeat: you would."

 

 

A few minutes later Lexa reluctantly slid into the passenger seat of Clarke's car. Clarke cranked the radio to an ear-splitting volume. Lexa cringed as some top 40 song pounded in her head, sending her temples into a dull ache. They drove like that for a while, until finally she couldn't take it anymore. She shut off the radio.

To her surprise, Clarke didn't hiss at her. Instead, Clarke shut off the engine. Lexa looked around, startled. They were parked in the drive of a huge house that could pass as a mansion. "Where are we?"

Clarke paused in her gathering of her purse, cellphone, and keys. She slid her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose so that her blue eyes peered at Lexa over the rim. "This is the part where I drive out to the spooky deserted woods, kill you, and bury you where no one will find you."

Lexa arched a brow. "We aren't parked near any spooky deserted woods."

Clarke gave a huff of her breath and gestured at her body with a wave of her perfectly manicured hands. "Do you really think I'm going to go shopping looking like this?"

Lexa frowned, looking her up and down. Maybe not the smartest idea, as Lexa could see that same lacy blue bra she wore underneath it. She cleared her throat. "Oh."

"Yeah, ' _oh_ '. So I am going to go take a shower and get ready. You..." One side of Clarke’s nose wrinkled. "Sit in the parlor or something, I don't know. Just don't bother me."

Lexa slipped her hands into her pockets as she followed Clarke up the strenuously well-kept lawn into the incredibly spotless mansion. Clarke pointed her to the parlor room and then headed up the sparkling-white spiral staircase.

Well great. Now what?

Uncomfortable, Lexa strolled around the parlor observing the pictures decorating the walls. Unsurprisingly, they were all pictures of her. There was one of her as a child, and it caught Lexa's interest. Her hair had been lighter when she was younger. It exploded from her head in a white-blonde, frizzy poof. She must've been about three or four. She wore a Minnie Mouse dress, and gave the camera a toothy smile as she leaned against the shiny red tricycle beside her. That was probably the only time she'd ever been sweet. Lexa wondered when it was that she'd started to change into the evil diva of destruction that she was now.

Curious, she moved on to the next picture. Clarke was probably eight or nine in this one. Her hair had darkened considerably, now more gold than platinum. It hung down her back in mad curls. She appeared to be laughing as she clutched the hand of a boy standing just a tad taller beside her with dark brown skin and a huge grin, looking at Clarke in affection. Hm. Clarke looked sweet in that one, too. Lexa observed the next picture. Now this seemed more like the Clarke she knew. She was probably eleven or twelve in this one, and her hair had been hacked off to above shoulder length. She was literally glaring at the camera. Her arms were gripped from by a man with dark hair and a graying beard, smiling politely at the camera.

Lexa blew out a breath as she turned and eyed the couch. It was a clean white, so clean it could be brand-new. She went over to it and plopped down.

Eventually she slipped into a doze. She jolted awake when fingers snapped together right in front of her nose. Disoriented, she sat up, blinked at Clarke. She looked...why did she look so great? She wore a bright yellow sundress, and her hair was loose and curly, tumbling down her back and over her shoulders. Her sunglasses were gone, so when she met her gaze, her beauty took her breath away.

"I didn't say you could take a nap." She sounded faintly amused as opposed to the grouchy tone she usually reserved for Lexa.

"I didn't mean to." Lexa frowned at her as she dragged a hand through her wild mess of hair that had fallen free from its usual braid. "Why are you wearing that?"

Clarke smoothed the bottom of the dress with the palm of her hand. "Change of plans. Come on."

Lexa followed her out of the house, still frowning. "What do you mean, change of plans? We have to go to those stores and get the supplies. Anya will kill us if we don't."

"We will," she said exasperatedly, closing the door behind them and locking it with the ornate silver key she withdrew from her purse. "We just have to make a couple stops along the way."

Lexa didn't like the sound of that. She glared at Clarke as she settled into the passenger seat of her car. "If we take too long, Anya will—"

"'Anya-shmanya." Clarke held down the brake so she could send a glare back at Lexa. "Is Anya the boss of you?" Before Lexa could finish saying yes, she added, "Are you scared of her?"

"You’re the one who should be scared of her,” said Lexa darkly.

Clarke shook her head as she resumed driving. "Look, to tell you the truth, I don't give a damn. I'm going to make these stops. And I'll take my time if I want to. It's my money anyway."

Lexa bit her tongue and looked out the window as the countryside as it rolled past. "Where are the stops?" she finally asked, her voice tightly controlled.

"You'll see." Clarke rolled down her window, and Lexa caught a whiff of some type of incredible perfume as it wafted her way. Well, that's not surprising. She could probably afford the best type of perfume there is.

They spent the drive in silence that was particularly tense on Lexa’s half. Clarke pulled into the drive of another fancy looking mansion, and Lexa’s frowned when two people came immediately bursting out the front door.

The first was a short, sun-kissed brunette with blue eyes, and a killer jawline. The other was a boy with beautiful black skin and a broad smile; Lexa recognized him as the boy from the picture in Clarke’s parlor.

Neither of them spared Lexa a glance as they buffeted Clarke with hugs once she got out of the car.

"Clarke! We haven't seen you in _days,_ " the girl said in a dramatic tone.

"I know, I know." Clarke laughed, kissing the girl’s cheek. "I've been busy."

The boy gave Clarke a grin. "Too busy with the working life to see your favorite people?”

"Hey Clarke, who's the cutie in your car?" The blue-eyed friend bent, her head poking in through the driver's side window to give Lexa an alluring smile. Lexa deadpanned her in return.

"Oh." Clarke rolled her eyes, mimicking her friend's movement, only instead of giving Lexa a smile, she gave her a jerk of her thumb. "Get out already."

Lexa inwardly grumbled as she climbed out of the car. She was vaguely nervous. These were all attractive, rich people, and Lexa had been shoveling horse manure this morning.

Clarke seemed annoyed with her, as usual, and sounded impatient as she said, "This Lexa Woods, my apparent babysitter. Lexa, these are my friends Octavia," she lifted an elegant hand in greeting, smiling, "And Wells.” The boy nodded at Lexa.

"So, Clarke." Octavia’s blue eyes sparkled in merriment and mischief as she looked from Lexa to Clarke. "Is she single?”

 

\\\

 

Clarke tried her best not to glare at Octavia when she asked her if Lexa Woods— _the current bane of Clarke's existence—_ was available. If Clarke glared, Octavia would make a big deal out of it, saying she was jealous or some other ridiculous thing like that. Instead, Clarke gave a cool laugh and said, "Well I don't know if you'd want her. She has a habit of harassing poor unsuspecting women."

"How so?" Octavia asked, sounding intrigued.

"Oh, stalking them. Things like that." Clarke smirked when Lexa's cheeks turned pink.

"I do not," she said, sounding embarrassed. "I have to accompany her to the store because apparently she's too irresponsible to go by herself."

Octavia snickered. "Clarke _is_ kind of a wild child."

Wells nudged Clarke in the ribs with an elbow. “Yeah, she’s not exactly one to be careful."

Clarke frowned, nudging Wells right back. "Stop it, guys."

Lexa lifted her eyebrows, appearing wickedly amused in the concept, which told Clarke she’d be teased for it later. _No no no_. "Yeah?”

"Oh yeah, " Octavia giggled. "She's mellowed down a lot now though. She used to party every night, and—"

"Octavia!" Mortified, Clarke shot her _the look_ that clearly told her to shut up, because she did.

Fortunately, they were interrupted before they could continue on with their teasing.

"Okay I got it!" Raven came hurrying out of Wells’ mansion running rather awkwardly, because of the brace around her left leg, dark hair streaming behind her. She handed Clarke a letter after brandishing it. "Here ya go."

As Raven and Lexa exchanged quick introductions, Clarke impatiently ripped the envelope open, heart pumping with excitement. This was a letter back from a man she’d hired to hunt down her most important prized possession: the watch her father had given to her, that had been stolen from her over a year ago at a party.

 The hope that had temporarily coursed through her quickly dissipated as she scanned her gaze over the letter. He hadn’t found anything. 

Clarke turned the paper over in her hands, hoping for more. There wasn't. Octavia, Wells, and Raven watched her in silence as she stared at the letter, bereft.

“Well?” asked Raven in trepidation.

Clarke shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Clarke,” Wells murmured, bracingly rubbing Clarke's arm.

Clarke blinked up at him. "For what?"

"The watch." Wells’ dark eyes were fathomless. Clarke had always admired them. When she was younger, she used to get so jealous of him for them. Mostly because every time she looked in the mirror, she saw her father’s eyes staring back at her. "I know how much you were hoping she'd have it."

"Oh." Clarke carefully folded the letter up and slipped it into her pocket. "No, it's fine. I doubted this time would be any different anyway.” She plastered a fake smile on her face, shifting it from Wells to Raven to Octavia. "Thanks for bringing it for me, Ray."

"It was no trouble, babe."

Clarke blew out a breath. "Well, I should probably get going. Lexa and I have to go shopping for wood and paint."

Wells, Octavia, Raven, and Clarke all exchanged looks of distaste. Then they embraced Clarke one at a time, giving her apologetic goodbyes.

Minutes later, the wind was blowing back Clarke's hair as she drove down the highway. She was too engrossed in her own thoughts to turn the radio on, and Lexa seemed to be somewhere along the same lines as she stared out the window thoughtfully. After another few minutes passed, Lexa finally turned to her and broke the silence.

"That watch...did it upset you, that whoever that was in the letter didn't have it?"

She sounded curious, and Clarke was too weary to argue with her, so she replied, "A little."

"Was it...your dad’s?"

Surprised, she glanced at Lexa. There was a little crease between her brows, and her green eyes seemed concerned. Weird. "Why would you think that?"

Lexa lifted a shoulder, let it drop. "Just a guess. From the pictures back at your house. That was your dad in the picture, right?”

Hm. Lexa was much more perceptive than Clarke had given her credit for. "That wasn't my house. Well it was one of them. And no, that wasn't my dad. It was my step-dad.”

"You have more than one house?" Lexa let out a low whistle as she looked out the window again. "Jeez, your mom must spoil you more than I thought."

Clarke gave her a strange look. "I talk to my mother twice a year, if that."

Lexa looked back at her. Clarke had apparently taken her completely by surprise. "I'm sorry," said Lexa, now taking _her_ by surprise. "Why's that?"

This was weird. It was like they were being nice to each other. Playing it casual, Clarke shrugged. "She's too busy for me. Being a multimillionaire kinda does that."

"So, where's your dad?"

Clarke felt the pain, even after all these years. It wasn't the intense sear like it used to be. It was just a muffled kind of ache. It hurt, but it was manageable. "He died. Eight years ago."

Lexa was quiet for a moment. Then, softly, she said, "I'm sorry."

Clarke jumped, startled, when Lexa reached over to the steering wheel and put a hand over Clarke’s. She was so stunned that she couldn't move or think of anything to say. Lexa’s hand was warm over hers.

"I would say I know how you feel, because my mom left us when I was eleven. But I'm more angry then sad about it."

Still struggling to be casual, Clarke nodded. She still couldn't think of anything to say.

 

 

\\\

 

 

Shopping with Clarke wasn't as bad as Lexa had predicted. She wasn't rude like she thought she'd be, and when Lexa offered suggestions of what to buy, Clarke listened to her. She wondered if it was because of what happened earlier in her car.

Lexa upset her, she knew she had. Her face had been pale, her expression strained because she'd been trying so hard not to seem sad. But Lexa had felt the delicate tremor in Clarke’s fingers under Lexa’s hand, she’d watched as Clarke took those short, choppy breaths. Clarke’s father's death was still bothering her, even after eight years. Lexa wanted to know how he died, but she didn't want to push Clarke any farther.

All she knew was that Clarke was intriguing her. Every time she would assume something about her, Clarke would prove her wrong. Lexa still didn't like her. But she did want to know more about her.

What was the harm in that?

 

They didn't arrive back at the ranch until a quarter past four. It was different when Clarke left, because this time she'd actually muttered a quick goodbye to Lexa. She'd avoided making eye contact with her, but still. It was progress.

\\\

Day 11

A couple days later, Clarke returned back to her bratty self. She made snide comments to Lexa about the overalls she was wearing (they _were_ ugly, but they were painting today, so she didn't really care) and she'd rolled her eyes when Lexa asked her to start pasting the bricks back in around the hole. Lexa received her revenge the next day when Emori and Otan succeeded in their next prank, which was to put a tack on the kitchen chair right before Clarke sat on it, but Lexa hadn't gotten any satisfaction out of it, because Clarke had only picked up the tack—after screaming and leaping to her feet—and strode out of the kitchen with it. Lexa would've followed her to see what she was going to do with it, but then Ryder stepped in front of her.

"Hey we're taking a break. Goin' fishin'." He grinned. "Grab your pole and let's go."

Lexa headed on down to the pond and watched as everyone but her caught a fish. Even Zoran--who was only eight years old—caught one.

"Spoiler alert, " Lincoln said suddenly. They all twisted around in their seats to see Anya approaching.

 _Ugh_ , Lexa inwardly groaned. Break over.

Sure enough, the first thing Anya said was, "Break over. Get back to work. Linc, you and Ryder go herd the cattle into the second pasture. Nyko, Artigas, you two get the horses back into the stables. There's going to be a storm tonight. Charlotte, Tris and the twins—you all need to go start on the feed. Zoran and Reese can come help me pack up in the kitchen."

"What about me?" asked Lexa as everyone else started packing up and leaving.

Anya jerked her thumb back toward the house. "Go see what's going on with Princess. She's freaking out."

Frowning, Lexa gathered her fishing pole and bait and headed down the hill. She dropped them off in her truck, and then went to find Clarke. It wasn't too hard to do. She was slacking, of course, and standing in the kitchen talking—or more like yelling—into her phone.

"What the hell do you mean you're not coming?" Her mouth was hanging open and her eyes were wide with outrage. " _Why?_ " Lexa watched as her expression turned angrier as whomever she was shouting at spoke. "Are you fucking _kidding_ me, Finn? Who am—yes, I'm still going! How can I not go? It's my best friend's birthday, of course I'm going! But _I can't go without a date._ What part of that do you _not understand?_ " She listened for half a second before saying loudly, " _Damn it,_ Finn! I don't _care!_ Get your ass off the plane, exchange your ticket for another time and get back here! Don't— _no—_!" She let out a long stream of curse words as she slammed the phone down on the kitchen counter; Lexa was surprised the screen didn’t crack. Obviously the Finn guy she'd been talking to had hung up on her.

To Lexa's delight—for it was something she could tease her about later—Clarke began to pace and talk to herself.

"What do I do, what do I do." She sounded really stressed. "I have to go, and I have to have a date. All my exes are out of town. My boyfriend's out of town. I have to have a date. What do I do!"

Foreboding rushed over Lexa, and she realized that if Clarke saw her, she might get a bad idea. Just as she began to slowly creep out, however, Clarke turned and spotted her. She gasped and her eyes widened even more as she scrambled to her side.

"Oh my God Lexa! I need your help. Please." Lexa looked down into her puppy-dog expression. Clarke’s eyes were big and blue and shining. She had a death grip on Lexa’s shirt sleeve.

“No,” Lexa said firmly, ignoring the slight twinge in her gut at seeing Clarke’s face fall. It rearranged into determinedness a moment later, so she didn’t feel bad too long. Lexa set her jaw. “Come on, no way! Why would you even want me to pretend to be your date? We hate each other!”

"Because I cannot show up to this party without a date. Please please please. I'll pay you. I'll do anything. Please!"

Lexa considered that. " _Anything?"_

She nodded frantically. "Anything. Pleeease."

Well, this was a fantastic chance to knock Clarke’s ego down a few steps. "All right." Lexa grinned. "I'll go. But the deal is, tomorrow you have to compliment me. Every time you see me."

Clarke’s brows drew down. Lexa could see the wheels turning in her head. Finally, she nodded. "Deal. Now come on."

"I—what—" Clarke was already tugging her out of the house. "We can't leave now. Anya will—"

"I don't care!" she said impatiently as she shoved Lexa into the passenger seat. "You're a train wreck! I have to fix you!"

Lexa frowned.

Clarke drove like a bat out of hell until they reached the mansion that they'd been at two days ago. She dragged Lexa up the stairs and into a bedroom, shoving her down onto what looked like a very expensive bed and then rushing into what Lexa assumed was the bathroom.

Lexa sat there, clearing her throat uncomfortably. This was awkward. The house was utterly silent. Was anyone ever home here?

"Take off your clothes!" she heard Clarke call from the bathroom.

"What?” The word came out as a mixture between a squeak and yelp. Embarrassed, Lexa cleared her throat and tried again, with a calmer, more level tone. “What?”

Clarke made a noise of frustration. Her arm came into view from the doorway, pointing at the opposite side of the room where there was one of those privacy dressing screen things you always see in movies. "Go behind there. And hurry up! I have to get you ready before I can get myself ready!"

Lexa grumbled as she went behind the folding screen and began to strip. A moment later, a shimmery black dress fell on top of her head. "Ow."

"Oh stop complaining. You should be thanking me. I'm introducing you to fashion."

Lexa muttered a couple things she was going to introduce her foot to as she pulled the dress on. She wrinkled her nose as she looked down at herself. Ugh. It was like prom all over again. “Don’t you have a dress suit or something?”

“No, sorry,” spoke Clarke from the bathroom. She did sound genuinely apologetic, at least. “Are you okay? If you’re uncomfortable in a dress, Octavia might have a suit, though I don’t think you’re the same size…”

“No,” Lexa sighed. “I don’t mind dresses. It’s just been a while since I’ve worn one.”

"Okay. Are you done yet?"

"Yeah." Disgruntled, Lexa stepped out from the screen. The dress was a little too loose around the chest and a bit too short, though the slit in the leg was distracting enough to cover. She didn't know whether to be flattered or offended when Clarke's brows rose in surprise.

"Wow. You clean up nice. Come here." She stepped to Lexa, brushing aside her curls to reach around her neck with some sparkling jewelry. Lexa thought she saw Clarke’s cheeks redden, just a little, as she clasped the necklace.

" 'Kay. Now get those shoes on while I get dressed."

Lexa sat down on the edge of her bed and pulled on the small heels sitting on the floor, a bit snug since her toes nearly hung over the edge, but they’d do. She lounged there for the next half hour while Clarke readied herself.

Finally, Clarke bustled back in. Lexa blinked. She wore a short silver dress that clung to her curves, and her hair was wound into one of those low side ponytails, with the tail curled in shimmering spirals. Her makeup was smoky and perfect. And her legs—since the dress stopped mid-thigh—were curvy and gleaming.

"Um." Lexa swallowed, hard. Clarke was too distracted with the comb and hairspray she held in her hands to notice. "You look...good."

"Thanks," she said absent-mindedly, setting the can of hairspray down on the bed beside Lexa.

Lexa’s heart thudded in surprise when Clarke kicked her legs apart to stand between them and plunged a hand into Lexa’s hair. Oh God. Clarke’s chest was right in her face.

"Close your eyes so you don't get any hairspray in them," she ordered.

 _Okay._ That was probably smarter anyway. Lexa squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to breathe too deeply so she wouldn't get high off the smell of her. Holy _crap_ she smelled good.

A few minutes later, Clarke stepped back and Lexa took a deep drag of breath. She felt light-headed. Then she lost her breath again as Clarke set to work on her makeup; their faces were way too close for comfort as Clarke drew on her liner and applied her mascara. To Lexa’s relief, Clarke only handed her the lipstick to put on herself rather than doing it for her. Lexa did as directed, rubbing her lips together and handing the lipstick back. She tried to ignore the kick of her heart in response to Clarke’s gaze focused on her lips.

"I'm all done." Clarke smiled. Her eyes traveled from Lexa’s head to her toes. "You look..." Lexa waited for the compliment. It didn't come. "Damn, I'm good,” said Clarke cheerily, turning to put away the hairspray and comb.

Lexa glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was a wild mane of curls that didn’t look _that_ much different from how they usually did. Her make up was good, her liner winged and her lips a deep shade of red.

"All right, we’re all set. Let's go." Clarke started toward the door.

"Wait, what about my clothes?"

Clarke hit the light-switch. Lexa blinked in the sudden darkness. "We'll get them after the party."

Lexa hurried after her, trying her best not to watch the sway of Clarke’s hips under that shimmering dress.

 

 

When they pulled into the drive of yet another huge mansion, Lexa couldn't believe her eyes. People were everywhere, glamorous and rich, cameras flashing. She vaguely wondered if this was what it felt like on the Red Carpet.

"Here are the rules,” said Clarke, turning to face Lexa once she'd parked the car. "Don't flirt. With anyone."

Lexa looked out the window at the girls walking around. "Why not?"

"Because it'll _embarrass_ me, you’re supposed to be my date!” hissed Clarke. “Don't drink any alcohol. Don't mention where you're from or what you do or how much money you have. And above all, _don't_ humiliate me.” She gave a cheerful smile. "Got it all? Okay then. Let's go."

It was nerve-wracking. There were so many classy people around. Lexa remained utterly silent at Clarke's side as she flitted from group to group, exchanging greetings and air kisses. It wasn't until approximately forty-two minutes in, when they'd found Octavia and Raven, that Lexa finally spoke.

"Lexa!" Octavia shot her an alluring smile despite the fact that she was clutching the arm of some guy. She looked amazing in her short blue dress, as did Raven in her sleek red one. "Clarke, you didn't tell me Lexa was coming. What happened to Finn?”

"He's out of town, actually." Clarke said sweetly, but Lexa saw the anger in her eyes. She was still pissed at Finn for ditching her. "He had to fly to London for business."

Business? How old was he?

"Wow, Lexa. I had no idea you were this hot," Raven nodded, smirking. The man beside her scowled.

Lexa forced a smile. "Thanks. You look great too. And you, Octavia."

They each fluttered their long lashes at Lexa. The sparkling jewelry around Lexa’s neck suddenly felt too tight.

"Okay, well." Clarke interjected, sounding a little too forceful. "We're going to go find Wells. You guys have fun."

Clarke steered Lexa toward Wells, who was looking handsome in his expensive-looking suit. "Happy birthday!" They kissed each other, and then Wells smiled at Lexa. "You clean up nice _._ "

"That's what I said!"

"Your work, I’m guessing?" asked Wells.

Clarke's grin widened. "Of course."

Wells nodded in appreciation, winking one of those handsome dark eyes at Lexa. "Watch yourself. Clarke will eat you right up if you give her the chance."

Heat scorched Lexa’s cheeks. Clarke's own cheeks turned scarlet. She glared at Wells, who laughed and kissed Clarke's forehead. "Okay one, I didn’t mean it that way. Two, it’s my birthday. I can get away with it today. Have fun."

Wells swept away, leaving an awkward silence in his wake. "Um." Clarke scratched at the back of her neck uncertainly. " I'm going to go get some punch. Go mingle if you want."

Lexa opened her mouth to protest, but Clarke was already weaving her way through the crowd. Great. Lexa didn't know anyone. What was she supposed to do now?

_  
\\\_

_Lexa._ Was there never an end to how many times she surprised Clarke? She looked gorgeous, and the fact that she seemed completely indifferent about it made her even hotter. If Clarke wasn't careful, she could easily become so attracted to her that she would do something crazy, like doing something about it.

Clarke's hands were shaking slightly as she poured herself a cup of punch. She couldn't believe Wells had just humiliated her like that. She knew he hadn't meant any harm. Maybe it was just the fact of how accurate he'd been. 

And that was the problem. Clarke had a _boyfriend._ A sucky boyfriend, but still. Oh who was she kidding. She couldn't care less if she cheated on Finn, especially considering the amount of times he had probably cheated on her. The _problem_ was that Lexa was her _enemy._ Clarke knew it was her own fault that she was, but either way, the fact still remained. Plus, Lexa absolutely was not her type. She was a country girl—or at least she lived out in the country—and they just had nothing in common. Besides the fact that they were both missing a parent, of course. That was it though.

Clarke jumped in surprise and the punch went slopping over the rim of the cup when someone tapped on her shoulder. "You got your punch. Now come sit down with me." It was Lexa. Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed Clarke’s free hand and led her to a table that stood in the corner of the room, farthest from the large throng of people. Clarke’s heart pounded at the contact, at her hand caught warm and snug in Lexa’s; she swallowed hard and subtly wriggled her hand free. She sat down and said nothing even while Lexa stared at her expectantly. God, her eyes. They were so green and intense. And her face, those cheekbones, that jawline. The full set of her lips. Clarke’s stomach tightened in response to the low pull that swept through it.

She couldn't take it. To distract herself from how much inappropriately aroused she was getting, she went for small talk. "So do you live at the ranch?"

Lexa shook her head. "I live in Polis, actually."

Clarke’s eyes widened, completely taken aback by this information. Lexa lived in an even bigger city than Clarke did! "Why are you here then?"

"Every summer I watch house for my aunt while she goes to visit her daughter.”

 _Eee_. "The house that I ruined..."

Lexa sent her a lazy smirk. "The house that you're fixing."

Clarke chewed on her lower lip. "Will she be mad?"

"Furious." Lexa answered easily. "But she won't be even a quarter of how mad she would be if we didn't fix it before she got back."

"When will she get back?"

"The first of August."

Okay, okay. Jesus. It wasn’t quite that bad…it took them a little over a week to fix the wall. They just needed to paint it, fix up the rest of the living room, and fix the porch.

But still. The fact that Lexa’s aunt would be back so soon was a bit nerve-wracking.

"So why did you ruin the house? Or how?"

Clarke bit down on her lip a little harder. "You won't tell?" Lexa waited. "I fell asleep."

"That's what we all figured." Lexa didn't sound surprised. "Ontari said you were probably drunk, but I didn't smell anything."

Clarke snorted. "You were sniffing me out?"

Lexa grinned. "I may be a ninja. That's why you didn't notice."

Clarke smiled, shaking her head before taking a sip of punch. "I can bet I didn't notice because I was freaking out."

"You were freaking out?"

"Oh yeah. Hysterical." She lifted her eyebrows at the memory of it. "I was about to throw up all over you when I got out of the car."

"Huh." Lexa thought that one over. "But you played it so cool. You were really freaking out?"

Clarke dipped her head in a nod as she took another gulp of punch. "I'm good at playing it cool. Just look around," she added, gesturing. "When you grow up in this kind of environment, you have to have good composure."

"Why?"

Clarke brought her voice down an octave so those nearest wouldn't overhear. "Everyone here—besides Wells—are completely fake.”

Lexa leaned forward to hear her. "Even Raven and Octavia?"

"Well, no, they’re actually pretty real too, but they have their moments. Like now, look at Raven dancing with Kyle Wick." She pointed at Raven, dancing a slow dance with her boyfriend.

"What about her?" Lexa said quizzically.

"Look at her. She's pretending to be enjoying herself. See how she's leaning away from Wick, and only her hands are on his shoulders?"

"Yeah,” said Lexa, puzzled. She wasn’t so much puzzled at how Raven was not altogether uncomfortable—that much was obvious, due to that body language. But why dance with someone if you don’t want to?

"When you're actually enjoying yourself, you don't dance like that. Look at Octavia and Atom. See how they're all pressed together, and Octavia’s arms are around his neck, and her head's on his shoulder?" Clarke nodded, straightening. "She's not faking it, like Raven is. But see how she keeps looking at Raven? They—"

"Clarke, Lexa!"

They each turned when Wells called to them from the dance floor. "Come dance!"

Clarke exchanged a look with Lexa. "Ah...we'd rather not."

"Oh come on! It’s my birthday, remember? Come on!”

Clarke bit her lip again as she and Lexa reluctantly rose to their feet. As they took their place beside Wells and the girl he was dancing with, Clarke tried her best to ignore how her face felt as though it was on fire. She put her hands on Lexa's shoulders, distancing herself from her while Lexa put her own hands on Clarke’s hips. She was so warm. Clarke’s stomach lurched.

This...would not be good.

  
  
\\\

 

This wasn't a good idea. Lexa knew it even as she placed her hands on Clarke's waist. This was not a good idea.

Clarke avoided her gaze as they swayed and Lexa did her best to maintain distance, but it was hard. It was hard when Clarke was so soft under her hands, when she smelled floral and light and it made Lexa’s head spin. Her hair was enchanting under the party lights and her lips were so…

Not a good idea. Right.

She knew she was being stupid. They were pretty much enemies, and had absolutely nothing in common. Even by the way she was acting with her at the moment, Lexa knew. She was dancing the same way Raven had been dancing with her boyfriend she apparently didn't like. The only difference was Clarke refused to even _look_ at Lexa _._ Which kind of annoyed her, to be honest. That was unnecessarily rude. She let Clarke drag her to this stupid party, and that was the thanks she got?

Lexa was suddenly determined to make Clarke acknowledge her. She wrapped her arms tighter, her forearms at Clarke’s sides now. Clarke took a sharp intake of breath as their stomachs pressed together. She looked up at Lexa, startled, and quickly looked away when she saw how intently Lexa was gazing at her. Lexa bit her tongue against the irritation. It was bad enough Clarke treated her like she had the plague at the ranch; the fact that she even did it here, at this party she’d basically forced Lexa to come to? That was low.

Lexa jerked her in a quick half turn, a jolting dance move that had Clarke locking her arms around Lexa’s neck to keep her balance. Clarke glared at her, wisps of her golden hair falling into her vivid eyes. Lexa held her gaze defiantly as she yanked her into another spin.

She staggered back in utter shock when Clarke’s palms pressed into her chest as she shoved her back. Lexa was left standing there like a stunned idiot as Clarke went storming off toward the dark area of shade supplied by the towering trees beside Wells's mansion. After a moment, once the sting had faded a little, anger chased the dumbfounded expression off Lexa’s face and she thundered after Clarke.

"What the hell was that?" The sounds of laughter and conversation were muffled and distant now that they stood in the small clearing.

"What the hell was _that?_ " cried Clarke, whirling and wildly gesturing back at the dance floor. "You—"

"I was trying to get your attention, damn it!" she said, voice rising with anger and shame. "Because you were refusing to even look at me!"

"If I don't want to look at you, then I won't!"

"You didn't even thank me for letting you drag me here!”

"Oh _thank you_ for gracing us with your presence, " she said, her voice sagging with sarcasm. "You were such a joy to be around tonight!"

She still wasn't looking at Lexa. Clarke was pacing back and forth before her, the moonlight overhead dappling her in random patterns as she passed under the various patches of tree leaves.

"You weren't such a joy either," Lexa echoed her sarcasm. "Ditching me one minute, pushing me the next—how do you have any friends, with the way you treat people? It's no wonder your boyfriend ditched you tonight—"

" _Don't_ mention him! You don’t know anything!”

"Oh please. I know everything about you." Lexa was lying, she was full of shit, really. But Clarke didn't know that. She was frozen in place, her gaze furious on Lexa’s as she stalked forward to growl in her face, "There’s a reason everyone calls you Princess at the ranch. You’re spoiled rotten and get anything you want at the snap of your fingers. You pitched a fit tonight just because your boyfriend decided you weren't worth the effort. Did you even ask him why he couldn't come?"

Clarke’s face had turned a ruddy color. "He left for business—"

Lexa snorted with mirth. "Yeah, right. Face it. He's probably cheating on you.”

Lexa’s gut twisted when Clarke’s eyes glimmered. "Fuck you," she said, her voice thick. "Fuck you and your idiotic redneck family, fuck you and your stupid aunt, fuck _you!_ "

Lexa had a retort right on the edge of her tongue but she couldn't bring herself to say it. Not when Clarke looked so upset. Lexa had gone too far.

"I’ll quit. Tell my mom on me, I don’t care. I swear to God I’ll quit. I can’t stand another minute with you,” Clarke snarled. With her hair in wild strands framing her flushed face and her shining eyes, she looked like a complete mess. So why was it that, gazing at her, Lexa’s stomach clenched, heat simmering low? To be so physically attracted to someone she'd declared as her enemy—that wasn't smart. But it wasn't only that. She wanted to make that emotionally wrecked expression on her face disappear. She wanted her to smile. She wanted Clarke to give her that rare smile again—the smile that made Lexa’s insides ache.

Lexa didn't think. She moved on instinct. Clarke was still telling her she hated her when she crossed the space between them. Lexa framed Clarke’s face in her hands as she crushed her lips against Clarke’s, smothering her words. For one moment, hardly three seconds, she stood there, lips pressed warm and unmoving to Clarke’s. Then she drew back, dropping her hands. They both dragged air into their lungs as their gazes held, and Lexa watched awareness bloom in those stunning blue eyes that suddenly seemed to swallow whole her slender, elegant face.

Lexa saw her move forward, and she blinked, and then Clarke’s hands were greedy on her face, yanking her down to her so her mouth could take hers. Her enthusiasm scrambled Lexa’s thoughts, and suddenly she couldn't remember all the reasons why they shouldn't be doing this.

Clarke’s mouth was every bit as lush as it looked, and hotter than she'd imagined. Her tongue curved against Lexa’s. She tasted of the punch from the party and of something unfamiliar that was rich, dark, heady, and seemed to sear through Lexa’s system like liquid fire. Lexa pressed a hand to the small of Clarke’s back, used the other to pull the band out of her hair and then tangle the golden curls around her fingers. For a couple minutes that felt more like a few seconds, they stood there, swaying slightly as their mouths moved in a frantic, heated rhythm, and the ache in their bodies intensified. It seemed as though Clarke didn’t know where she wanted her hands—they moved up and down Lexa’s body, shifting down her waist and over the slight flare of her hips before gripping and tugging her forward more tightly against her, but it caused Lexa to trip in the short heels she was unaccustomed to so they stumbled back a few steps, slamming hard against a tree trunk. Lexa swallowed Clarke’s gasp, keeping her effectively pinned there as she tilted her head to change the angle of the kiss, deepen it, aching at the sound of Clarke’s moan muffled against her lips.

They both jerked apart when a loud chorus of _Happy Birthday_ drifted to them from the mansion. Lexa stood shaking, shivering against the torrent of sensations rushing through her. She watched Clarke’s throat move as she swallowed, taking sharp intakes of breath to deliver much-needed oxygen to her lungs. Her eyes no longer shone with tears; they were dark now. Her cheeks were bright pink, her lips swollen and bruised, her hair cascading down her shoulders and back in wonderful sunlit clouds.

"Um." Clarke closed her eyes for a moment, sucking in a ragged breath. "We need to, um, wish Wells a happy birthday. And then leave. It's...getting late."

Lexa couldn’t think of anything to say. She only followed, obedient in Clarke’s wake, as she walked back to the party with a shaky stride.

Work would certainly be interesting- if she managed to make it through the rest of the night, that is.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A teeth-rotting fluffy ending to this silly little fic for Day 7: Free Day. Happy Clexaweek2018!

_Oh my God._

That was the only phrase that ran through Clarke's head as she drove Lexa and herself home so they could get her clothes. What a day. That's all she could say.

Lexa kissed her. She _kissed_ her. And even worse, Clarke kissed her back! She didn't know what she'd been thinking, but she sure as hell knew what she was thinking now. What had she done!? She'd cheated on her boyfriend and kissed an enemy all in one go. She'd cheated _herself,_ because she'd warned herself from the get-go not to get attracted to Lexa. And what happened? She ended up having the hottest make out session of her life with her. What was _wrong_ with her?

Awkward silence loomed between them. They had barely exchanged a single word since they'd said goodbye to Wells and escaped to the car. Now, fifteen minutes later, they couldn't even look at each other.

Clarke wanted to though. She really, really _wanted to_. She wanted to whip off her seatbelt and climb into Lexa’s lap, straddle those narrow hips and kiss her until they couldn’t even remember their names anymore. She had to clench her hands on the steering wheel so she wouldn't reach for her. Why was she so attracted to her? The worst part about was that it wasn’t even just sexual attraction. Lexa, despite all Clarke’s bluster regarding how annoying she was, was also, damn it all, a good person. Clarke could tell by how she interacted with everyone who wasn’t her. Lexa’s little cousins adored her, her older cousins admired her, and even the animals on the ranch were all nice to her, unlike the cats that hissed and dogs that barked when Clarke was near, the chickens that tried to peck her, the goats that tried to head-butt her, the majority of the horses who reared their heads in a scary way, and the cows that just stared at her. Lexa was hard-working and funny, and on the very, very rare times her smile was directed Clarke’s way, it made Clarke’s insides flutter.

She was fucking frustrating.

A fresh wave of panic washed over Clarke as she pulled into the drive of one of her two summer houses. Oh no. She and Lexa couldn't go in there, alone. A dark, empty house? She shivered as she thought of it. Lexa’s mouth had been hot, hard, demanding, every bit as hungry as Clarke’s had been. Her hands—

No.

Quickly, Clarke opened the door and slipped out of the car before Lexa could notice her trembling. Lexa silently followed her into the house and up to the stairs. Once they reached the bedroom door, Clarke opened the door and then half closed it so Lexa wouldn't follow, and told her, "Um...I don't think it'd be appropriate for you to change in here, so I'm going to grab them for you..."

Lexa nodded at once. "Yeah, yeah.”

But Clarke only walked two strides when she heard the door snap shut. She turned to see Lexa standing there, hidden in the shadows while she stood in the moonlight pouring in from the window, feeling extremely vulnerable and at-edge.

"What are you doing?" she said immediately, her eyes wide.

"We need to talk, Clarke." Clarke blinked when Lexa said her name. She liked the sound of it leaving her lips far too much.

"About what?" she said nervously, trying to stall.

"Don't play dumb. You know what I'm talking about. We kissed back there."

Okay, time to change tactics. Clarke switched to cool and composed. She folded her arms over her chest. "So? It's just a kiss."

"You _know_ that wasn't _just_ a kiss," said Lexa, stepping forward. "You—"

"Either way," Clarke cut across her, "It won't happen again. All right?" When Lexa only looked at her, Clarke added, "It would never work out between us, Lexa."

Lexa’s brows contracted, and she almost looked a little embarrassed. "I know that! I don't want it to. I don't even _like_ you."

Clarke let out a breath in relief. "Oh, good. I don't like you either."

Lexa held out a hand. "So we're agreed? Keep it simple. We go back to hating each other."

Clarke nodded, smiling slightly as she took Lexa’s hand, shook it. "Agreed."

Lexa’s hand encompassed hers in warmth. Her smile faded as she looked up, held Lexa’s gaze. For a single charged moment, she couldn't breathe. And then Lexa gave a cool smile, letting go of her hand. She walked over to the dressing screen and retrieved her clothes. While she walked out the door, she looked back at Clarke, grinned. "I can’t stand you.”

Clarke forced a smile. "I can’t stand you either.” Then she followed Lexa to the car and drove her back home, ignoring the weird butterflies fluttering around in her stomach.

 \\\

 

Today was not going to be a good one.

The reason for it was still unclear, but Lexa could chalk part of it up to what happened yesterday. First the argument with Clarke, then the kiss (which was as amazing as much as it was a mistake), then getting her ass handed to her by Anya, then collapsing into bed only to leap out of it with a strangled cry because there was a tack stuck in her back. _Clarke._ Thinking of how she'd deliberately stuck it there got her, well, thinking of her, and then she couldn't sleep because she was too busy getting all hot and bothered from thinking of the kiss.

So Lexa woke up today sleep-deprived and frustrated, unsatisfied and distracted by the insistent heat simmering low in her stomach. It didn't help that Clarke seemed intent on pretending she didn't exist, but fortunately, Lexa had a silver lining.

"Hey Clarke." Clarke only spared her one startled glance when Lexa approached her, and then Clarke fixed her eyes on bit of wall she was painting. "You remember our little bet right?" Clarke’s brow furrowed. She didn't remember. "Think back. Yesterday. I told you I'd go to the party if..."

Clarke dropped the paintbrush. Finally, she met Lexa gaze. "No. No. Come on, Lexa, I don’t—"

"Uh uh uh." The corners of Lexa’s lips curved upwards, smug and goading. "I'm waiting."

Clarke’s jaw rolled as if she was chewing on something unpleasant. Eventually, she spat out, "Your shoes...are...nice." she finished lamely.

Lexa shrugged, grinning as she loped away. It was a start.

For the rest of the day, Clarke was forced to say compliments to her. They weren't very good ones, but seeing the anger on her face was satisfaction enough. At around four o'clock, when Clarke was heading to her car, the twins got her again. Water balloons. Lexa vaguely thought that Uncle Gideon—the twins' father—wouldn't appreciate the new words Clarke was swearing at them.

“You’re little shits, I ought to kick both your asses from here to Polis—“

 _“You’re_ a little shit!” snarked Emori.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” giggled Otan.

"Hey hey hey!" Lexa interjected. "Watch it."

The twins ran away laughing. Lexa arched a brow at Clarke. She flipped Lexa off before getting into her car and driving away.

Lexa sighed in relief as she made her way back to the house and began putting away all the supplies. She wouldn't see Clarke two entire days because of the weekend. Thank God.

As she eased down onto her bed, she thought about how weird it was that, a week ago, she hadn't even known who Clarke was.

 

 

\\\

 

 

You had to love Saturday mornings.

Clarke yawned as she shuffled down the pristine, waxed hallway. She almost giggled as she passed by the huge mirror. She wore black lace lingerie—the kind that would've given Finn a heart-attack, if he'd been here. And then she wore fuzzy pink knee-high socks. An odd combination, but hey, she liked it.

The house was silent as she ambled into the kitchen and poured herself a bowl of Fruit Loops. After sprinkling sugar onto them, she sat down on the lavish couch in the living room and began to eat as she watched the season 2 finale of Stranger Things. Her mood brightened even more when Eleven began to do her thing. She loved this show even more than Saturday mornings.

She had really needed a break from all that dreary ranch work. Or more specifically, a break from _Lexa._ She was driving Clarke up the wall. Clarke had nearly killed Emori and Otan yesterday when they'd hit her with water balloons. She had a plan in effect to get revenge on them. But what was she supposed to do with Lexa? How do you get revenge on someone like that? It was uncharted territory. With anyone else, Clarke would do her best to seduce and humiliate, but with Lexa, it was too dangerous. She was too attracted to her; that sharp jawline, those bright green eyes, those pouty lips, those muscles, those tattoos…

It didn’t take a genius to figure out why. Lexa was gorgeous, and with over a seven days’ worth of close proximity while Lexa’s biceps flexed as she moved hay, God…it was a miracle Clarke hadn’t already jumped her bone for hate sex. Still, they did hate each other, and Clarke wasn’t usually so attracted to people she hated, but that kiss…

Then again, maybe it wasn’t who she was kissing. Maybe she was just caught up in the moment, in the spontaneity of it.

Later that day, after she'd relayed all of those thoughts to Wells on the phone, Wells said, "Or maybe it was because you knew you shouldn't be doing it at all.”

Clarke held the phone between her ear and shoulder as she scavenged the fridge for blackberries. "I don't know. It can't be just that." She popped a berry into her mouth as she wandered up to her bedroom.

"You should find out."

"Well, yeah, that's what I'm trying to do right now. That's why I called you."

"No, I mean, just kiss her again. See if it is the same."

Clarke was speechless. "Are you crazy?" she finally demanded.

"What's the problem?” said Wells exasperatedly. “It's just a kiss."

"It was not _just a kiss,_ Wells," Clarke hissed. "It was a freaking explosion."

"Oh, I see.” Wells’ tone took on that annoyingly superior tone he reserved just to annoy his best friend. “You’re scared she’ll reject you."

Clarke's jaw dropped. "What? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard of!"

“Is it really? Scared she won’t want to kiss you again?”

“Uh, yeah! I could make her kiss me any time I want.”

"Prove it then," suggested Wells. "Kiss her. Invite her over tonight. But _she_ has to kiss _you_."

"Fine,” said Clarke coolly. "I'll update you later."

"All right." Wells' voice sparkled with merriment. “I’m making bets with O and Rae. See you.”

Clarke hung up the phone and glared around her room. _Lexa Woods,_ she thought as she strode to her closet, _prepare to be crushed._

***

 

Getting a random phone call to the ranch house phone from Clarke was weird as hell. Lexa was still feeling out-of-body as she drove down the dark deserted road toward Clarke's house. She'd called an hour earlier and asked her for help fixing a door that had apparently broken off its hinges. Clarke was filthy rich; why hadn't she just called in a professional? Why the hell would she have called Lexa? Clearly it was some type of ploy, but you know, Lexa will bite. She wanted to catch Clarke at whatever the hell she was up to. (It certainly had nothing to do with the tiny spark of hope somewhere in her nether regions that this was a booty call…)

Lexa felt a little awkward parking her beat-up Chevy truck (bought old and used from Anya when she turned sixteen) in Clarke’s higher-league driveway. Nevertheless, she got out of the vehicle, shoved her hands into her jacket pockets and walked to the door. When she knocked, she was answered with a faint, "Come in!" She entered and Clarke's voice was distant. She was probably upstairs. "Lexa, is that you?"

Lexa peered around Clarke’s dimly lit house. It was silent and empty, just like the last time she’d been here. "Yeah, I'm here...where's the door?" she called.

Clarke came gliding down the stairs that led to the bedrooms wearing a sleek, red satin robe. Lexa swallowed, hard.

"Hi," said Clarke, smiling at her. Her hair was loose and wonderfully wavy down her back. Unable to stop herself, Lexa shifted her gaze from Clarke’s pristine head right down to her naked toes. Her feet were bare, her nails painted a deep indigo. "I'm just about to eat dinner, so the door's going to have to wait. Are you hungry?"

Was Lexa hungry? Uh... "Sure."

Confused and uncomfortably hot, she followed Clarke into the kitchen. Lexa watched as Clarke bent down to check on what seemed to be a ham, peering into the oven and coughing when smoke rose in cloudy columns that engulfed her. Lexa was at her side at once, nudging her aside and wafting away the smoke before pulling the ham out with the flowered oven mitt that sat on the counter. "Jesus, Clarke, you burnt it to a crisp."

Clarke impatiently waved her hand at her, moving to take her place and prod at the ham with the tines of a fork. "Well damn." She gazed at the burnt ham, seeming forlorn. "I didn't mean to."

Lexa wrinkled her nose as the smell of burnt meat overwhelmed. "I can't believe you wasted a perfectly good ham."

Clarke turned her eyes onto Lexa, reproachful. "I suppose I'm just going to have waffles for dinner then. You want some?"

The collar of her robe was open just a little too wide, and Lexa could see down it. Did she want some? Hell yes. Carefully, she fixed her gaze on the ham. "No thanks."

Clarke sighed as she moved around the kitchen, fixing herself some waffles. Finally, they both sat on the bar—yes she had a bar in the middle of her kitchen—and Lexa was silent as she watched Clarke cut her waffle up. When she opened her mouth for a bite, the tip of that pink tongue had Lexa’s skin heating up another few degrees. Ridiculous. She went back to staring at the ham.

"Mmm." Clarke smiled at her again. What was up with all her smiling? "I love waffles. They're my favorite food."

Lexa grunted noncommittally.

"What's yours?" she prodded.

"My what?"

"Your favorite food." She seemed amused as she took another bite of waffle.

"Oh. Um, probably steak. Or shrimp.”

Clarke made an expression of distaste. "Shrimp. Ew."

"How can you not like shrimp?" Lexa demanded. "They're amazing. All buttery and juicy..." She trailed off when she realized she was staring at the butter that clung to Clarke’s full lower lip. Once more, she fixed her gaze onto the burnt ham.

A couple minutes of silence passed as Clarke finished her waffles and then rinsed the plate off in the sink. She headed toward the stairs leading to the bedrooms. "Come on. Door's up here."

Lexa reluctantly followed her. The stairs creaked a little under her feet. Guess the house was older than it looked. She looked up and found that she was eye-level with Clarke’s ass. To distract herself, she said casually, "So, uh, how did this happen?"

Clarke halted in her tracks, spinning around to face Lexa with wide eyes. "How did what happen?"

Lexa blinked at her odd behavior. "Uh...the door? How did it break?"

Clarke relaxed, turning to resume her walk. "Oh. Ah, I don't know, it just fell apart when I opened it this morning."

Lexa lifted her brows when she saw the door barely hanging on with just one hinge. Clarke watched expectantly as Lexa bent down to observe it. Lexa narrowed her eyes in suspicion as she observed the hinge. Clarke was _definitely_ up to something. "Well, it looks like someone loosened it with a wrench or something—"

"But who would do that?" As her voice was right next to Lexa’s ear, she turned her head to see her face, bright and smiling, less than an inch away from hers.

"No idea," said Lexa quickly, rising to her feet. Clarke's brows drew down. "Do you have a wrench or toolbox anywhere?"

"Uh huh. Here." She waited as Clarke retrieved a wrench from a drawer in the nightstand beside her bed. She had a wrench? Lexa’s eyes narrowed. Hm. "There ya go."

Lexa’s mind was whirring as she tightened the door back onto the hinges. Clarke was being really nice, and Lexa was here alone with her after she'd tried to share a dinner with her...Just what was she up to?

Five minutes later, the door was all fixed up. Lexa stepped back into her bedroom, opened and closed it a few times to test it. Sturdy as a rock. "It's done." She turned back to have her jaw just about drop to the floor.

Clarke was dusting the velvet curtain obscuring her window...wearing a bikini. A shimmering blue string bikini. What. The. Hell.

Lexa stammered, and Clarke turned back with the smallest of smiles on her face. Holy shit, her breasts. Very full, very scantily clad breasts. Holy shit.

"Oh, this?" Clarke gestured at her half-bare torso. "I was swimming in the indoor pool earlier. Do you like it?" She gave a little twirl. Lexa felt like all the blood in her body was rushing, but she forced herself to quickly rearrange her face into a blank, expressionless countenance. "It's Italian thread. The best kind, supposedly, because it's so smooth." She stepped forward, took Lexa’s hand and placed it over the side string on her left hip. She tilted her head, her blue eyes twinkling with mischief and something else as she watched Lexa. "Feel it?"

"Smooth," she managed to agree before stumbling back. The edge of her bed hit the back of her knees, causing her to sit down abruptly. Frozen, she looked up to see Clarke studying her with frustration evident in her eyes. Oh God, Lexa was so confused. Her head hurt.

 

\\\

 

With her heart thundering, Clarke studied Lexa sitting on the foot of her bed. She looked utterly lost. What was Clarke supposed to do now? Maybe she should just give up. Lexa obviously wasn't going to kiss her. Who was Clarke even fooling? Lexa hated her, for God's sake.

Clarke gave a little sigh as she gathered her robe and pulled it on before easing down beside Lexa. They were both silent for a long time before she finally said, "Sorry."

"I don't...understand." Lexa was staring at the floor with a perplexed look on her face.

Clarke lifted a shoulder, let it fall. The full moon bathed her bedroom in a silvery glow from where it leaked in through the heavy curtains framing the window. "Sometimes...I do stupid things," she began slowly. She turned to face Lexa, who was watching her warily. "I have...Wells and the girls tell me that I have a 'rebellious streak' in me. Thelonious—Wells' father—told me that I get it from my dad. I just do stupid things sometimes," Clarke repeated, folding her arms beneath her breasts. She felt a little cold, suddenly. "Things like partying and staying out past curfew. Being late to school on purpose. Spending more money than I should. Picking fights." She shrugged. "I don't know why I do it. I just do."

"Have you ever thought that maybe it's because of your mom?" said Lexa quietly.

Clarke turned, looked out the window again. "Yeah.” When Lexa was silent, Clarke said in a strangely emotionless voice, “I know what you’re thinking. Poor little rich girl with her mommy and daddy issues. Well, I’m aware. I’m privileged and lucky and I shouldn’t sit around feeling sorry for myself with so many have it worse.”

 

“I didn't say that.”

“It’s what you thought.” Lexa could hear what she didn’t say; it’s what everyone thinks.

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Pain isn’t a competition, you know,” said Lexa. Clarke didn’t say anything more. Lexa didn't press her, so she guessed she knew that's all she could say. "Well...if it helps at all...I don't talk to my mom either. I mean I'm not saying our moms are the same or anything, because I don't know your mom, and mine is just a waste of space who cares about her own life more than her own kids."

Clarke angled her head, curious. "What does your dad do while you’re working here?"

“He’s a pastor, actually.” Lexa’s lips pursed in a half-smile at Clarke’s immediate cringe. “A nice one, don’t worry. Though you can imagine the scandal of the church when the pastor’s daughter came out as a lesbian. They aren’t complaining when I donate to the church, though. After the summer, my aunt sends the check over. It's worth a little over a thousand."

A thousand dollars is all she got for working out here all summer? A thousand dollars was like Clarke’s weekly allowance. Feeling sympathetic, she changed the subject. "So, any girlfriends waiting for you back home?" She certainly hoped not considering they kissed, but she was curious now. When Lexa didn’t answer, Clarke gives her a sardonic smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “What? Hate me too much to tell me anything about your personal life, huh?”

"I don't hate you.”

"What?"

"I don't," she repeated. "You can be a considerable pain in my ass, but some of my favorite people are pains in my asses. Such as Anya. You’re not _that_ bad. I'm just saying," she went on before Clarke could interrupt. "I don't hate you. I think we should try being friends."

Clarke considered this, and then narrowed her eyes when a thought occurred to her. "If I agree...will you call off the demons?" When Lexa merely blinked, Clarke explained, "The twins. I know all about the deal you made with them. That's why I stuck it out. But you should call them off now."

Lexa grinned sheepishly. "Oh, all right. Sorry, about...hey wait! You put that tack in my bed. Look!"

Clarke was exasperated when Lexa twisted, pulling her shirt up so she could show her the tiny cut on her mid-back. Clarke’s mouth went dry. Lexa’s back was…God. And there was a….fuck.

“You have a _tattoo?”_ Some pastor’s daughter.

“Yeah, I got it not too long ago actually. Tribal.”

“It’s nice,” said Clarke, blushing a little at how unnaturally high-pitched her voice sounded. She ignored the hot stirring in her stomach as she ran her eyes over the lean muscles. Lexa lowered her shirt and faced her again.

"Thanks. So…friends then? White flag on the war?" She held out a hand.

Clarke nodded, relieved that the twins would leave her alone now. She'd had a plan to put food dye in their food so their teeth would turn black, but she would back off now. Maybe. "Truce. Friends." She shook Lexa’s hand.

Lexa slumped back on the bed, lying there smiling at the ceiling. "That's kind of a relief, to know I won't have to deal with all your rude comments anymore."

"What makes you think they'll stop?" said Clarke in amusement.

Lexa closed her eyes. "I'm psychic. I know these things."

"Speaking of knowing things. You avoided the girlfriend question."

Lexa sighed. "I don't have a girlfriend."

Comprehension dawned. "Bad-break up, huh?" Clarke guessed. When Lexa nodded, she urged on, "What happened?"

"She cheated on me.”

Bracingly, Clarke rubbed her arm. "I'm sorry. Want me to kick her ass for you?"

That dragged a chuckle out of Lexa. "She's captain of the basketball team, and she’s about a foot taller than you. I think she would win."

"Oh, what, you don't think I can fight? I can fight." Rising onto her knees, Clarke balled her hands into fists, holding them at the ready. "I used to be captain of the soccer team until I got kicked off for skipping games. Soccer's more brutal than basketball. And besides, brains over brawn. I could take her."

Grinning, Lexa sat up, gripped her fists and lowered them. "She makes A's in all her classes, and why would you skip games when you're a captain?"

"Used to be, " Clarke corrected. "And I make all A's too, buddy, got news for you. I rule in math class. Numbers are my thing. And I would skip because I didn't want to go run around kicking a ball for ninety minutes when my hangover was so bad that I could barely walk."

Lexa arched a brow. "Hangover? Your friends weren’t lying about the ridiculous wild child thing, were they?”

Clarke tried to suppress a smile as she sat up straighter, placed a hand over her heart. "I quit. I am now a good kid."

Lexa arched a brow in skepticism.

"Really!" she persisted. "I am. Mostly."

"Mostly?" Lexa laughed. "What does that mean?"

Clarke tilted her head, the corners of her lips curving upward. "Well it's a constant struggle, you see. I've discovered that I have a bad personality. It's hard to be a good kid when you have a bad personality, you know."

"I bet. Just how do you have a bad personality?"

Clarke leaned toward her, dropping her voice to a whisper. "I like things that I shouldn't." She watched as those green eyes darkened. Her stomach fluttered even as it became a little harder to breathe. Hm. Maybe she could get her to kiss her after all. Slowly, she touched a fingertip to Lexa’s wrist, slid it to her shoulder and back down again. "You want some examples?"

Mutely, Lexa nodded.

She couldn't keep the smile off her face as she inched closer to her. "There are a lot of things. Partying, that's one. I used to go out and party every night. Sometimes I take really long showers, just to run the water bill. Sometimes I leave all the lights on in the house to run the electricity bill higher." She jerked her head in response to Lexa's questioning expression. "It bugs my mom, even though we have more than enough money to spare."

Lexa forced a smile and made to slide away from her, but Clarke only followed. "Is that all then?"

Clarke shook her head. "Uh-uh. Sometimes, I steal things. Just for fun.” She felt the muscles in Lexa’s shoulder quiver beneath her very, very light touch. "Sometimes, when Finn is in a business meeting, I send him pictures of me. Naked. Just for the satisfaction of knowing I made him squirm in a roomful of people."

"Sometimes, you kiss other people even though you have a boyfriend." Lexa's eyes were narrowed. Okay, maybe Clarke couldn't get her to kiss her. Shit.

"If you count Finn as a real boyfriend. Which I don't."

"Really. Why's that." Lexa stared at her flatly.

Clarke shrugged. "He's boring."

Lexa rolled her eyes. “What guy isn’t.”

Clarke’s inched closer. "Girls aren’t.”

Lexa watched Clarke’s throat move as she swallowed. Her eyes flickered as though she were arguing with herself. She must've lost, because after a beat she asked, "And…you’re into girls?”

Clarke just smirked, because couldn’t she tell?

Lexa’s jaw clenched and her eyes kept flickering to Clarke’s lips, and she persisted. “Are you?”

Clarke sank her teeth down into her lower lip so she wouldn't kiss Lexa. Lexa had to kiss her. "I could tell you. But it would be better if I showed you."

Lexa regards her with a quiet intensity. "We're friends, remember?"

Her voice was so steady and quiet, soft even, that it sent shame arcing through Clarke. She drew back a little. "Yes. Yeah. I remember. Friends."

They both nodded and exchanged a quick smile before Lexa fixed her gaze on the floor and Clarke fixed hers on her hands in her lap. She felt itchy everywhere. Her stomach felt like it was being sucked in. She bit her lip harder. She glanced up at Lexa, saw Lexa watching her.

Well, she'd never been very good at following the rules.

Clarke dipped her head down and up to press her lips to Lexa’s. The moment was suspended for hardly a couple seconds. Then she withdrew, her face on fire as she looked unseeing at her lap. God, she'd kissed her. Wells totally won. And if that wasn't embarrassing enough, now Lexa wasn't even talking to her. What the hell was Clarke’s problem? Why did she like making life so difficult for herself? Why—

Her thoughts were interrupted when Lexa jerked her half into her lap and smashed their lips together. Clarke didn't think this time. She reacted instinctively.

She basically did her best to climb her way up Lexa’s body as Lexa’s mouth ravished hers. Though she wasn't quite sure how they got there, suddenly Lexa was on her back and Clarke was atop her, kissing her avidly while her knees straddled her waist. Then Lexa gripped her by the shoulders, rolled so that Clarke was beneath her, and all at once, her hands were everywhere. Suddenly Clarke’s robe was open—somewhere along the way she'd managed to remove one of her arms from it, and one of Lexa’s hands were sliding from the side of her thigh upward while the other—well, the other was busy elsewhere. Her own hands were tugging at Lexa’s shirt, desperate to feel flesh, her nails scraping against her jeans and the skin of her stomach, when abruptly, Lexa froze over her, which gave Clarke enough time to screw her head back on straight and resume conscious thought, consequently freezing beneath her.

At once, they both turned and sat up, taking in deep drags of breath.

"So yeah, just friends,” said Lexa in a ragged tone.

"Yep," gasped Clarke.

Clarke’s chest was heaving with the effort to gulp down oxygen. The silence spreading between them was filled with a ridiculous amount of awkward tension. The places on her body where Lexa’s hands had been were tingling.

"Uh, I should be going."

They both stood so suddenly that they knocked heads. They sat back down just as abruptly.

"Ouch," said Clarke, lying down as her head spun.

"Are you okay?"

She blinked the stars out of her mind, focused her gaze up on Lexa, who was bent over her, an expression of concern on her face. There was a small red cut on her chin. A crease appeared between Clarke's brows.

"Did I scratch you?" she muttered to herself, and reached up to gently touch her thumb to the cut. Slowly, she dropped her hand when she noticed the way Lexa’s brows lifted, the way her gaze intensified on her. A strange feeling, one she rarely felt, came into Clarke. A kind of longing. She relaxed, and seemed to sink into the mattress. "Lexa..." She reached up, gently cupped her face in her hands. Slowly brought her down to her while she tilted her head up. Her hazy eyes drifted shut as she touched her lips to the tiny cut.

A sigh tumbled out of her as she drew back, opened her eyes again. So strange. So unbelievably strange. She'd never had this kind of sweet ache in her before.

But staring up with Lexa, into green eyes darker than she’d ever seen them, Clarke knew that there was some kind of war raging inside her.

 

 

 

Clarke Griffin was too tempting.

That was the problem. She was too damn tempting.

 _Just look at her_ , Lexa thought desperately. Clarke lying beneath her, her golden curls spread out in wild tumbles over the sheets, her cheeks flushed, her lips pink and kiss-swollen, just waiting for Lexa to—

But she shouldn't.

Should she?

Impulse won over rationality. She lifted a hand, placed it on Clarke’s cheek.

"Clarke..." she murmured, bending her head. Clarke’s eyes were wide, luminous, a vivid blue. They were fixed on Lexa with a piercing kind of absorbency. "For just a minute, let's pretend nothing bad can happen out of this. Okay?" she said firmly when Clarke only stared at her. "Pretend that Anya wouldn't kick my ass, that we don’t drive each other up the wall, and that this isn’t…that this isn’t a bad thing. Okay?"

Clarke blinked, nodded. Took a shaky breath. "Okay. Now kiss me."

"Okay."

Lexa lowered, closed her eyes. Placed her lips on Clarke’s.

Sweet, yielding, a lush mouth melting beneath her. A lazy sweep of the tongue, and then she was in bliss.

Lexa tilted her head to angle the kiss, deepen it. Deepen it until Clarke’s head was pressing down into the mattress. Lexa felt the hitch of her caught breath, felt the unsteady tremors of Clarke’s hands when she put them to the back of Lexa’s neck so she could bring her even closer, impossibly closer.

Lexa’s hands moved beneath Clarke’s robes before she could even give it conscious thought, and suddenly she and Clarke were kissing and groping just as furiously as they had been before.

 _Fuck, fuck, what was she doing?_ This was Clarke Griffin. They weren’t supposed to be doing this.

Lexa ripped back from her, stumbling to her feet. Clarke was left spread out and much too exposed, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her cheeks bright pink. Her legs were spread and oh, God, it was not a view Lexa had ever expected to have—

If she didn’t get out of here, they were definitely going to do something they would regret.

"Um." Lexa dragged breath into her lungs. "I'm sorry. See you at work tomorrow." She turned blindly, walked quickly and almost ran into the door. "Bye," she said before flying out of Clarke’s house.

 

 

What the hell had Lexa managed to get herself into now?

She was furious with herself as she drove back home. Just what the hell had she been thinking? She'd just _made out_ with Clarke on her _bed_ while she'd worn practically _nothing!_ What would've happened if she hadn’t jolted her to her senses? What would've happened if they'd kept going? Well she knew what would've happened, obviously. And then after that?

She couldn't sleep, of course. The clock had slowly ticked its way to the next morning, and she hadn't slept a wink. God, Clarke really had a way of getting under a person's skin. For the rest of Sunday Lexa just stumbled around like a zombie, her stomach uneasy as she wondered how Clarke would treat her the following day.

As it turns out, Lexa had been worrying over nothing.

The moment Clarke walked in through the kitchen door, her eyes found Lexa’s and she smiled. "Hey Lexa." Lexa lifted her brows, watching as Clarke began to put away the eggs she'd collected from the chicken coop. She sighed and turned, still smiling at her after she'd finished. "It feels good out today, doesn't it?" A little overly relieved, Lexa gave her three enthusiastic nods. Clarke began walking toward the door. "All right, well, I'm gonna go get the paint out. Later."

Lexa nodded once more. "Later."

She was staring after her when Lincoln—who'd been standing in the doorway behind her, came to her side with a slightly dumbfounded expression on his face. "What was that?" he wondered.

"What was what?"

"That." He gestured to where Clarke had been standing. "She was... _nice_."

Lexa half-shrugged as she opened the fridge and withdrew a bottle of water. "We decided to try to be friends."

Nyko, who had of course appeared when Lincoln had, snorted. "Let's see how long that lasts."

Ignoring that comment, Lexa walked outside and sipped her water as she watched Reese, Zoran, and Aden feed the chickens. Aden made the mistake of letting the chicken eat from his hand, and as a result, the chicken clipped a side of his finger with its beak. Lexa hurried over when Aden began to cry.

"A chicken pecked Aden’s finger," said Reese immediately once Lexa knelt down beside Aden

"I know, I saw. Aden, why would you let it eat out of your hand? You know you're supposed to throw the feed on the ground” said Lexa, lightening it with a soft, sympathetic voice.

Emori and Otan had wandered over to see what the commotion was. Otan snickered. "I can't believe he's crying."

Emori echoed her brother's snigger and said, "What a baby."

Aden began to cry all the harder at that, his hand consequently shaking so that Lexa couldn't see the cut. She gathered him in his arms and straightened. "You two get back to work." Lexa said firmly to the twins, giving them a meaningful look that clearly meant _shut the hell up._ She turned to Reese, who was watching her crying cousin with somber eyes. "You go tell Anya that we're running out of hay for the horses." Lexa waited until Reese scampered off, then made her way back to the kitchen.

"All right buddy," she said as she set Aden down on the table. His little face was tear-streaked. "I need you to sit still while I get you a Band-Aid, okay?" Aden nodded, grave as though his leg were broken rather than the fact that there was a tiny cut on the inside of his index finger.

"Hey, is the little boy okay?" Clarke had just walked through the door, concern on her face. Lexa was surprised. She was worried over a little chicken scratch?

"He's fine," Lexa explained, puzzled. "I'm trying to find him a Band-Aid now."

Aden sniffled, his big brown eyes pouting up at Clarke. She bent down so she was eye-level with him. "Are you okay, kiddo?”

He knuckled the tear in the corner of his eye, sniffling again. "Mama says I'm not allowed to talk to strangers."

"Clarke isn't a stranger," Lexa told him as she wrapped the Band-Aid she'd retrieved from a cupboard on his finger. "She works here now. She's a friend." Clarke and Lexa exchanged slightly rueful smiles. "You can talk to her. Your mom won't be mad, I promise."

Aden’s shimmering eyes darted along Clarke's body, as though he were measuring her up. Yeah buddy, Lexa thought, I did that when I first saw her too. Only not so innocently. "You're pretty,” commented Aden.

Clarke tried and failed to hide her grin. "Thanks. You're pretty handsome yourself. How old are you, twelve?"

His thin chest puffed out a bit. "I'm six. I really look twelve?"

She nodded. "Yes, you do."

“You look fifty,” said Aden, evidently under the impression he was giving Clarke a similar compliment.

Clarke cleared her throat, eyes shooting daggers at Lexa even as she fought to hide her smile. “Thank you.”

Shaking her head in amusement, Lexa interrupted. "Okay Aden, we need to get back to work. Go find Reese and work with her."

"Where is she?" asked Aden as he hopped down to his feet.

"She should be cleaning up in the horse stables."

" 'Kay."

Aden ran off, slamming the kitchen door behind him. Clarke hitched herself up onto the table where he'd been sitting. She pulled out her phone and started texting as she said, "He's freaking adorable."

"I know." Lexa chuckled a little. Aden was one of her favorite younger cousins.

"Is he Reese’s brother?"

Lexa shook her head as she retrieved two glasses from the cabinet and poured water in them from the sink faucet. She handed one to Clarke. "No. They're just cousins. Reese is my Aunt Lucy and Uncle Tor’s kid, and Zoran is my aunt Sienne’s, and Aden’s my Aunt Tris’s.” After Clarke sipped her water, Lexa said, "I almost didn't expect you to drink that. I figured you as the Evian type of person."

Clarke arched an amused brow at Lexa. "Did you know that Evian spelled backwards is Naive?" Lexa grinned. "Exactly."

"Well, we should probably get back to work..." Lexa started gravitating toward the door.

"Wait." Clarke repeatedly tapped her phone screen. "Here. Put your number in."

It was Lexa's turn to cock a brow at her.

"Friends have each other's numbers," she reminded her.

Lexa put her number in and then pulled out her own rather old Nokia. She handed it to Clarke. When Clarke gave it back to her, she saw that she'd written her name as "Clarke the Great.” Lexa snorted. "Humor. Ha."

Clarke smiled, batting her long golden lashes at her. "I'm a funny girl, Woods. You should know that by now, even though your own sense of humor is rather lacking."

Lexa held the door open for her. "Fuck you, Clarke,” she said teasingly.

Clarke passed by her and Lexa got a whiff of that incredible perfume she always wore. Clarke shot her a wink over her shoulder. "You would."

 _No I wouldn't,_ Lexa lied cheerily to herself as she followed her out.

\\\

**Clarke the Great      1:57am**

Holy fucking shit THEY JUST DID IT

TWICE

THEY JUST DID TIW JK;LDJAKSL;

TWICE!!!

THEY DID A TWO TIME THING LEXA

HELLO

LEXA DID YOU SEE ARE YOU WATCHING

JAFKLDSAJFDL;A THEY DID IT TWICE

 

Lexa chuckled at her phone screen, the pads of her thumbs flying across the screen as she typed out a reply. She and Clarke had been regularly texting for over a week, now, and she was beyond grateful they had exchanged numbers. Clarke was hilarious. They had actually become what they said they would—friends, and Lexa was happy about that (no matter how many times she had to ignore the urge to kiss Clarke, she was happy about it).

 

**Commander Lexa    2:01am**

I still think it’s terrible how you’re not only subjecting yourself to this terrible show, but forcing me to watch it too.

 

**Clarke the Great      2:01am**

I FINISHED STRANGER THINGS AND I NEEDED SOMETHING TO FILL THE VOID THAT’S MY LIFE

GLEE IS DOING IT

THEY DID IT, LEXA. THEY. DID. IT.

 

 **Commander Lexa    2:02am**  
So?

 

**Clarke the Great      2:03am**

GOD

Your name in my phone is so perfect.

Commander Lexa, bc u so serious and have no emotions

 

Lexa snorted in amusement.

**Commander Lexa    2:03am**

Does that mean you’re the commander of death? Since you crash into my house and kill my chickens and all

**Clarke the Great      2:03am**

Okay 1 I told you I was sooo sorry about the house geez how many times you want me to say it

2 IT WAS ONE CHICKEN AND IT WAS ALREADY DEAD WHEN I WALKED IN AFDHAS;L

 

Lexa chuckled.  
  
**Commander Lexa    2:04am**

Yeah yeah yeah.

 

 

**Clarke the Great      2:04am**

Anyways WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THE EPISODE

 

**Commander Lexa    2:04am**

What am I supposed to say?

 

**Clarke the Great      2:04am**

THAT QUINN LOOKS HOT AF

I WISH I WAS THAT WATER BOTTLE

 

**Commander Lexa    2:05am**

I was trying to process the validity of that statement

when you decided to be an impatient butt

I think I’m going to have to change your contact name

 

**Clarke the Great      2:05am**

WHAT NO BUT I’M SO GREAT

 

**Commander Lexa    2:05am**

Too late, just changed it. Much more befitting now.

 

**Commander of Death         2:06am**

NO

WHAT DID YOU DO

 

**Commander Lexa    2:06am**

I changed it to “I’m a pain in Lexa’s ass Griffin”

 

**Commander of Death         2:07am**

You wish I was a pain in your ass

**Commander Lexa    2:08am**

Nope sorry, not really into that.

 

**Commander of Death         2:10am**

Perv

 

**Commander Lexa    2:10am**

You were the one being dirty!

 

**Commander of Death         2:11am**

ANYWAYS

So what did you think

 

**Commander Lexa    2:11am**

I see why that’s your favorite episode of all time.

 

**Commander of Death         2:12am**

Uh yeah, the song choices are great, the HBIC gets fucked by another HBIC

TWICE

What more can a girl want

 

**Commander Lexa    2:12am**

Am I supposed to be impressed with only twice?

 

Lexa internally cringed as she stared at the bubble signifying Clarke was typing. Why did she have to say that? That was weird, why—

She almost startled at the ding indicating a new message.

 

**Commander of Death         2:15am**

If you know what you’re doing

Even just once can be enough ;)

 

Lexa’s brows arched, and she cleared her throat and shifted on the couch, unsettled with the warmth blooming in her belly even though she was the only person awake in the house right now.

**Commander Lexa    2:17am**

I disagree. If you know what you’re doing

Then once should never be enough

**Commander of Death         2:18am**

Touche, Woods

Care to back up your claim?

 

Lexa swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat, heart beating far too quickly for words said by someone she was supposed to be purely platonic with.

She very nearly jumped out of her skin when the lights abruptly switched on, gasping and dropping her phone. It clattered onto the oak floor and scattered a few feet off, toward the figure standing in the light flooding in through the doorway. Lexa squinted in the brightness, blinking until her eyes adjusted to take in the sight of a sleepy Anya standing there.

“What are you doing up at two in the morning? Watching…” Anya frowned as she glanced at the television screen. “Glee?”

“Um,” Lexa stammered, heart still fluttering with the flirtatious banter between she and Clarke. “I—“

To her horror, Anya bent down to retrieve her phone. She crossed the room to hand it back to Lexa, but not before glancing down at the screen and stopping in her tracks, a brow arching.

“Is this…are you texting Clarke?”

“Maybe.” Lexa quickly snatched the phone out of Anya’s hands before she could read any farther. She stuffed it into her pajama pants’ pocket, trying to school her face into an expression of polite indifference as she stared back into Anya’s suspicious eyes.

“Were you…are you…are you and Clarke dating?” said Anya carefully.

“What? No!” spluttered Lexa, though her face burned. And they weren’t. She and Clarke were just _friends_ (except her heart beat faster the moment she saw her car pull up the drive in the morning, and she lost her breath when Clarke’s blue, blue eyes were on her, and she couldn’t get that kiss out of her head). Regardless, Anya certainly didn’t need to know that.

“Are you sure?” said Anya slowly, face carefully schooled into a blank expression, but her eyes were boring into Lexa’s. “Because from the last couple messages between you two, it certainly looks like it. You know how I feel about that, Lexa. She’s a spoiled brat and she’s working here because she owes us, remember? If you’re in a relationship with her—” she began warningly.

“We’re not,” said Lexa heatedly, hating how her face felt like it was a thousand degrees right now. “We were just joking around. We were watching Glee together.”

Anya fell quiet again, glancing between Lexa, the television, and where the screen of Lexa’s phone was clearly still light up against the fabric of her pajama pockets. “Lexa, that’s _so_ gay,” said Anya, and she sounded torn between amusement, disbelief, and scolding.

Lexa immediately scowled. Anya was her cousin, a few years older than her, but she acted more like an annoying, overbearing big sister. “We’re not, okay? I told you, we’re just friends. Shouldn’t you be sleeping right now,” she added witheringly.

Anya’s brow quirked up again. “Shouldn’t you be?” she said coolly.

Setting her jaw, Lexa sidestepped her and walked right past her, ignoring her as she marched up the stairs and to her room. She’d more done it to get away from Anya if anything else, because she knew when Anya started on her, she was stubborn enough that she could stand there ordering her to sleep all night if that’s what it took.

Collapsing on her bed, Lexa gave a huff of breath and pulled her phone out of her pocket so she could text Clarke. To her horror, she realized that her phone was connected to a call…to Clarke. For the past five minutes. Aghast, Lexa stared at the phone for a solid ten seconds before bringing it to her ear.

“Clarke?” she said tentatively.

“Lexa?” Clarke’s voice sounded strangely shaky. “Hey. I heard Anya. Are you okay? Alive?”

Lexa blew out a breath she hadn’t really realized she’d been holding. “Barely,” she muttered.

To Lexa’s surprise, Clarke’s voice bubbled over with giggles. Oh, so that’s why her voice sounded weird—she had been trying not to laugh. Unsure whether she should be offended or entertained, Lexa let Clarke giggle for a moment.

“So she, uh, thinks we’re an item, huh?”

“Clarke, who even says ‘item’ now?” said Lexa disdainfully. Clarke giggled again, and Lexa hated that it spread pleasant warmth in her chest.

“I guess I do. Which means it might be a new trend now.” Lexa could hear the damn wink in Clarke’s voice. Lexa rolled her eyes. “I heard that eye roll, Lexa Woods. Don’t be mean.”

Lexa frowned in surprise before shaking her head and laughing quietly. “You’re…”

“Crazy, I know,” agreed Clarke, the affection and smile in her voice painfully obvious. “So. About Anya. What are we going to do about it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean we should do something about it. Mess with her or something.”

“You mean…” Lexa paused, frowning, unsure whether she should broach this if Clarke wasn’t saying what she thought she was saying. “You mean, like…”

“Pretend to date, yeah.”

Lexa swallowed, hoping the gulp wasn’t obvious. “Which would entail…”

“The usual. We tell your cousins we’re a thing and they spread the word, we hold hands, maybe a random kiss here and there,” she listed off, and Lexa wondered how she couldn’t possibly be aware of the way her heart was pounding.

“Um.”

When the pause went on too long, Clarke hastily added, “If you aren’t comfortable with that, we don’t have to do it! It was just a funny idea, I don’t know, I just thought—“

“No, it’s fine,” interjected Lexa. “I just…” She rolled over in bed, picking at a stray thread in her duvet. “If we’re going to do this, we should do it right,” she agreed.

“Good,” said Clarke, sounding pleased. Lexa’s heart pounded in her chest. “So tomorrow at work, let’s do it.”

“Operation Troll Anya is on,” mused Lexa.

“And you make fun of me?” scoffed Clarke. “Lexa, you are such a nerd. I _heard_ that eye-roll.”

Lexa paused mid-roll, staring up at the ceiling with a smirk. “Whatever.”

“Yeah, whatever, you remember I’m always right.”

“Yeah sure you are,” said Lexa, adding another eye roll just for fun. “Anyways, considering we have to get up in…” she glanced at the time on her phone, “less than three hours, I guess I better let you go.” Lexa grinned. “Get some of that beauty sleep you so clearly need.”

Clarke groaned. “Ugh, why do you have to remind me? I don’t know how many times I can tell you I’m not a morning person before you start letting me show up around noon.”

“Probably around…never,” suggested Lexa.

“And you’re right, I do need beauty sleep. I look like a drowned rat in the morning.”

“No you don’t,” said Lexa indignantly. “You always look b—um, good.” She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, hoping Clarke didn’t catch it. “You look good.”

Clarke’s voice had grown soft and even…was that shy? “Thanks. So do you.”

Lexa cleared her throat, blushing and wanting to bury her face in her pillow and also slightly concerned she was going to go deaf from how loud her heart was beating in her ears. “Well, uh. Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight, Lexa.”

“Goodnight.”

Lexa waited for Clarke to hang up, but she didn’t. Lexa didn’t click off, and Clarke didn’t either. Oh God, now it was super awkward. What was she supposed to say? What—

“And fuck you!” she burst, eyes immediately widening with mortification as the blush spread all the way to the tips of her ears. Why did she say that? Just out of habit from how many times she and Clarke ended conversations that way? Fuck, what was wrong with her. What was actually wrong with her.

All the blood that had rushed to her face seemed to turn right around and rush south instead when Clarke’s husky chuckles crackled through the phone speakers. “You would, Lexa,” she said, and hung up.

Lexa laid there with the phone still pressed to her ear and warm cheek, staring up at the ceiling in the dark.

Fuck.

\\\

**Commander of Death**

I’m here. Did you get the flowers?

 

Lexa tried to ignore the way her heart started thumping harder at the new message from Clarke. She swiped the screen and read it, wetting her lips nervously and glancing down at the bunch of roses she clenched in her sweaty hand.

**Commander Lexa**

I got them.

 

**Commander of Death**

Good! Anya?

 

**Commander Lexa**

In position.

 

**Commander of Death**

Which means? lol

 

**Commander Lexa**

She’s coming back from the pasture.

 

**Commander of Death**

Oh okay. Gotcha, 007 ;P

 

Lexa rolled her eyes. At least Clarke didn’t hear that one.

 

**Commander Lexa**

Are you ready then? Sure you want to do this?

 

**Commander of Death**

I’m positive. It’s going to be great.

Anya won’t know what hit her!

 

Lexa had a feeling she wouldn’t either. Wasn’t this crossing some kind of line, after all? It was hard enough trying to just be friends when they were careful and distant; how difficult was it going to be when they were holding hands and kissing?

“Hey Lex, your girl’s here,” said Lincoln as he approached from the kitchen. He had a grin on his face; he was the only person Lexa let in on the plan, mostly because he could prove to be an asset and help them out with this half-baked idea, but partly because he was her best friend and knew her so well he would know she was lying anyway.

Lexa nodded, rising to her feet. She was rigid and straight-backed, clutching the flowers, and she was beginning to think the blush was a new permanent fixture on her face. She spotted Anya coming over the top of the hill and felt her heart jump; shit, was this the best idea after all? Anya would be pissed! And Ontari was walking alongside her, which really didn’t help matters.

She didn’t have time to dwell on it though, because suddenly Clarke was hurrying toward her from her car, looking stunning in a skirt and blue plaid blouse, her golden hair streaming behind her and a broad smile on her face.

“Lexy!” She threw her arms around Lexa’s neck, squishing the flowers between them, but Lexa forgot all about that when Clarke’s mouth pressed to her cheek.

She could see Anya over Clarke’s shoulder. To Lexa’s surprise, Anya did not so much as falter in the step. She adorned her typical stony glare as she strode right past where Lexa and Clarke were wrapped up in an embrace. Ontari gagged pointedly as she passed by.

“Uhm.” Clarke pulled back to mirror Lexa’s frown. “Why didn’t that work?”

Lincoln was smiling, which immediately made Lexa aim her frown at him. “Linc?”

He shrugged. “Don’t ask me,” he said, but then wasted no time in walking away.

Lexa watched him go with narrowed eyes. “Something’s up.”

An hour later, after they’d mucked the stables and fed the chickens, they headed to the house for a glass of water. Lexa licked her lips, mouth dry and heart pattering on faster, when Clarke reached down to take her hand.

“What, um. Anya’s not out here.”

Clarke slanted an easy smile at her that made her heart pound even more. “Better safe than sorry, right?”

Lexa sank her teeth into her bottom lip to stop the smile from splitting her face.

They both stiffened in surprise when they found Anya in the kitchen, sat at the table on the phone to someone—it sounded like her aunt, from the sound of it.

“Yeah, the horses are doing great. Yeah, Artie’s been taking them out every afternoon for a ride. Runnerbean’s hoof is still crusting, but the meds have been helping.”

Lexa quietly crossed the kitchen to retrieve glasses from the cabinet. Clarke came to stand beside her at the sink as she filled them with tap water.

Clarke inclined her head, gesturing for Lexa to take her hand. Lexa did so, swallowing audibly hard. Clarke’s thumb swiped across the backs of her knuckles, rubbing circles on the back of her hand. Lexa bought the glass to her lips and coughed and spluttered a little as she nearly inhaled the water. Clarke’s eyes were twinkling over the rim of her own glass.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lexa saw Anya glance over at them and then roll her eyes. Lexa exchanged a nervous grin with Clarke.

“Yeah. Okay, I have to go. There are two dweebs here I have to deal with. Okay, yeah, I love you too. Bye.”

Lexa and Clarke locked wide eyes and struggled not to giggle as Anya tucked her phone away in her pocket and stood up. She stalked over to them, dropping her own empty cup in the sink, before stopping to look between them, an eyebrow arched.

“You do realize I know you’re fake-dating to piss me off, right?”

Lexa and Clarke’s mouths both dropped open.

“Next time, warn Lincoln not to tell Artigas. He’s a loudmouth,” she said simply, before turning and heading out the door.

Clarke immediately burst into laughter, while Lexa let out a breath of relief.

“Well, that was a disaster.” Clarke squeezed Lexa’s hand once before letting go; Lexa tried to ignore the disappointment of the cold air on her empty hand.

“Yeah,” Lexa agreed. She wasn’t sure which feeling was stronger. Relief that Anya didn’t kill them, or disappointment they didn’t even get to kiss.

Clarke was eying her with that twinkle in her blue eyes. Without a word, she leaned forward to gently kiss Lexa’s cheek. “I’ll see you around,” she said softly before heading toward the door.

“Well, yeah,” said Lexa, a little puzzled. “We have to collect the eggs in an hour.”

Clarke glanced back at her, torn between amusement and exasperation. “Let me be mysterious, Lexa.”

Lexa didn’t fight the smile this time as she sighed and put away the empty glasses before following Clarke out the door.  


\\\

 

It was the third of July today. Clarke had been working at the ranch for officially one month now. That was crazy to think, too. Sometimes it felt as if she'd been working there forever. And sometimes it felt as if she'd only just started. Only weeks ago, she'd been working only because she was fueled with anger to show up to prove Anya and Lexa that she was more than a spoiled rich girl, not to mention she kinda had to show up because blackmail. Now she genuinely enjoyed it, something she never imagined happening, and something Wells, Raven, and Octavia never wasted any time in teasing her about.

Still, despite the fact that she actually enjoyed working there now (which might possibly have a little too much to do with hanging around a certain beautiful brunette), she was certainly not enjoying waking up so early.

Yawning, she laid down again, figuring she had a good five minutes to just rest before she had to get ready. 

She only had a month to go, she realized. Lexa had told her a few days ago that Anya thought the house would be fixed by August. So that meant in four weeks, she wouldn't have to bother with Lexa or any of the rest of them ever again.

 

\\\

 

Clarke's eyes fluttered open as her cellphone alarm interrupted her sleep. Disoriented, she rolled over and shut it off, then sat up in her lavishly comfortable king-size bed. 

She'd been working at the ranch for officially one month now. That was crazy to think, too. Sometimes it felt as if she'd been working there forever. And sometimes it felt as if she'd only just started. Yawning, she laid down again, figuring she had a good five minutes to just rest before she had to get ready. 

She only had a month to go, she realized. Lexa had told her a few days ago that Anya thought the house would be fixed by August. So that meant in four weeks, she wouldn't have to bother with Lexa or any of the rest of them ever again.

But she would, she confessed to herself. She and Lexa had become close friends over the course of the past three weeks. She didn't want to shut her out of her life. Though part of that might be because she was...well, Clarke felt things for Lexa now. More than the initial lust. She _wanted_ her. She wanted to try to be more than friends with her. But how was she supposed to tell her that? She didn't want to ruin what they now had. It had been so hard just to achieve that. Lexa had become one of her best friends. Clarke felt like she could trust her with anything. If they dated, and it didn't work out, things would forever be awkward and they could never be like they were now.

Depressed at the thought, Clarke sank down farther into her bed. If she didn't feel so strongly about Lexa, she would suggest being friends with benefits. But she wanted everything with Lexa, not just the dirty benefits. She wanted a relationship with her. A relationship _along_ with the dirty benefits. Smiling a little, she closed her eyes and allowed herself a few vivid daydreams about those benefits...

She jolted awake an hour later to realize she was late. She readied herself in hyper speed, skipping breakfast and driving to the ranch thirty miles over the speed limit.

"I'm late, I know, I'm sorry!" she said hastily as she burst into the kitchen. To her surprise, everyone—Anya, Lincoln, Artigas, Nyko, _everyone_ , including some other people she didn't know—were all piled into the kitchen, most sitting around the table and some standing. Conversation quieted and every face turned to Clarke. She felt blood rush to her cheeks. Lexa, who stood over the stove wearing an _apron_ —wtf?—looked up at her. 

"This is Clarke Griffin,” Anya announced to the room.

The strangers all smiled and nodded at Clarke. Lexa weaved her way through the people to cross the room to Clarke, gently take her by the elbow (butterflies seemed to burst inside of Clarke), and drag her to her side in front of the stove.

"What's going on?" whispered Clarke.

"You're late,” said Lexa, handing her an egg. She cracked one of her own, tipping the contents into the sizzling pan.

"You're cooking?" said Clarke in astonishment. Pancakes, bacon, sausage and fried potatoes were piled in heaps around them.

Lexa smirked and Clarke ignored the incessant fluttering of the butterflies in her belly. "This is one of my rare talents I've never gotten to mention to you. I'm an excellent cook."

Clarke cracked the egg Lexa had given her and then watched as she stirred them in the pan with the finesse of a fine chef. Why was she so attractive in that apron? Clarke’s cheeks still scarlet, she avoided Lexa’s gaze, staring instead at the food. 

"Sorry I didn't think to text or call you,” said Lexa easily. “Last night, everyone decided to come over for breakfast today. I didn't even think to warn you. I'm so used to you being here it's like you're one of the family."

 _Great_ , thought Clarke, biting her tongue so she didn’t give voice to a hopeless grumble. Lexa considered her family. "Who are all these people?" she asked, pleased with her nonchalant tone.

"Give me a minute and I'll introduce you."

It took more like fifteen minutes, actually. Once everyone was at the table, the prayer had been said and everyone had dug in, Lexa walked Clarke around the table to meet members of her family. She met Artigas’s dads Delano and Semet, and Nyko’s mother Denae, who were all too involved with gossip to actually acknowledge Clarke. Lincoln’s mother Mags was rather old—she had to be in her sixties, and greeted Clarke warmly, as did everyone else. The only person who didn't seem happy to see Clarke was the twin's father Gideon, and Clarke was pretty sure that was because, according to Lexa, she'd taught his children some colorful vocabulary words (Whoops).

Since the kitchen was so crowded, Lexa and Clarke took their food to the stairs in the living room. Clarke knew at first bite that Lexa was an amazing cook. The food melted in her mouth, fluffy and rich.

"Oh my God, these pancakes are amazing." 

Lexa grinned. "Told you."

Clarke narrowed her eyes as she pointed her fork at Lexa. "Any other hidden talents do you have that I don't know about?"

Lexa took a bite of her bacon, thoughtful. "I’m not a bad writer. I enjoy it.”

"Hm. You'll have to prove that one." Jesus, the rest of the food was just as good as the pancakes. How could someone make something as simple as fried _eggs_ taste so good?

"What about you?" asked Lexa.

Clarke shrugged. "I like drawing and painting. Oh, and I can sing."

Lexa nudged her ribs with her elbow. "Whatever."

"No really!" insisted Clarke. "I took singing lessons when I was little. And guitar lessons, because my dad used to play."

Lexa looked at her thoughtfully. "You'll have to prove that,” she teased. “Anything else?"

Clarke slanted Lexa a mischievous look. "I could only tell you if we either had been dating for longer than a month or I could kill you afterward."

Lexa’s cheeks immediately went pink. When she fell silent, looking down at her food with renewed interest, Clarke laughed and nudged her.

“Just joking. Well, I’m not. But still, no need to get embarrassed.”

Lexa cleared her throat, the corners of her lips tilting upward in a tiny smile. "So…which is it?"

"Which is what?" Clarke took another big bite of bacon, humming in pleasure at the taste, which made Lexa’s smile grow.

Lexa nudged her again. "What do you want to do, date for longer than a month or just tell me? And then kill me?” she added.

Clarke tried to suppress a smile as she considered her. "You have to answer that."

"Oh I do?"

Clarke nodded. "Yes. See, it doesn't matter to me. But you should know that the dating route would be longer, whereas I could just tell you and kill you today."

Lexa picked up the buttered toast from her plate, took a bite, green eyes never leaving Clarke’s. "But how do I know if it would be worth it?"

Clarke snatched the roll, watched Lexa as she stole a bite. "You'd just have to trust me."

"Can I do that?" said Lexa, and Clarke had the feeling she was being completely serious about this one.

Clarke handed her back the remainder of her toast. "Yes."

Clarke was surprised when Lexa suddenly turned and placed both their plates on the step below their feet. She took Clarke’s hands between both of hers. Clarke tried to ignore the jumping of her heart at the warmth of Lexa’s palms and slim fingers enclosing her own. "Then let's do it."

Clarke blinked, bewildered. "Do what?"

"The one month plan,” said Lexa patiently.

Clarke’s lips parted in shock. Despite the teasing, and the nonstop flirting that had been taking place since she and Lexa decided to be friends, she hadn’t actually expected Lexa to just ask her out like that. Surely it wasn’t that easy?

"Come on, Clarke. Go out with me tonight."

"Tonight?" she said faintly.

Lexa nodded vigorously. "Tonight. You’ve been wanting to watch Black Panther, right?”

Clarke just gaped at her for another moment before regaining conscious thought. She took a deep breath to steady herself. Lexa wanted to go on a date. Tonight.

"Well, okay," she managed.

Lexa smiled as she stood, gathering their empty plates. "I'll pick you up at six." A crease suddenly came upon her brow and she didn't move for a moment as though she were hesitant about where to go. Then, swiftly, before Clarke could hardly blink, Lexa bent down, touched her lips to the apple of Clarke’s cheek in a chaste kiss. When she drew back, she grinned. "Just wanted to see if I could do that without trying to take your clothes off this time."

As she walked away, Clarke remembered her thoughts from that morning. "Lexa," she called. Lexa looked back. Uncharacteristically nervous, Clarke clasped her hands together. "Are you sure about this?"

Lexa smiled again, nodding. Clarke weakly returned the smile as Lexa disappeared into the kitchen.

 

 

\\\

 

 

"Will you stop smiling so much? You're creeping me out."

Lexa chuckled at her great-aunt Mags’s words. She was squinting at Lexa from the couch in the nearly-fixed living room, her shrewd expression made harsh by the gray hair she had pinned back in a severe old-lady style. "Sorry,” lied Lexa cheerily. 

"You are not," she said, sounding amused. "So what's the reasoning behind it? It's that girl, isn't it?" When Lexa's face split into a grin again, Mags confirmed her suspicions with a nod. "I knew it. Do you like her?"

Lexa nodded, trying to hide her grin by resuming her painting of the finished wall. "Yeah. She's great."

"She's the one that ran her car through the house, right?"

"That girl was?" came Lexa's aunt Sienne’s voice as she and Denae both entered the room. When Lexa nodded, Denae put her hands over her heart and gave an exaggerated moan.

"That is so adorable,” she cooed.

Lexa rolled her eyes, but Sienne was smiling. "I think it's cute."

One of Mags’ brows winged up. "I think that girl better take some driving courses."

"She fell asleep, Aunt Mags,” muttered Lexa, though truthfully she agreed.

"Well she—"

"Shhh, she's coming!" Denae ushered, waving her hands. All three women fell silent. Lexa felt her heart skip a beat when Clarke walked into the room, carrying two buckets of paint. Her lips curved when she met Lexa's gaze, and in response Lexa’s heart pounded. 

"Here's the rest of the paint," she said, setting the buckets down beside Lexa. She glanced around warily at the silence; Mags, Sienne, and Denae were all staring at the two of them as though they were an interesting film. "Um...and Anya told me to tell you that we were finishing up early today." Clarke lifted her brows pointedly as though asking, _Why are they doing that?_

"Okay, good." Lexa lifted her own. _Just go with it._

Clarke bit her bottom lip in an effort to suppress a smile. "Alright, well. I'm going to go home, then, I guess. Have to get ready." Her eyebrows jerked up in a suggestive, teasing manner. "Got a hot date tonight."

Lexa grinned. "Have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do,” she called as Clarke began to walk away.

Clarke looked at her over her shoulder, winked. "Guess I'm not doing anything, then."'

Lexa chuckled to herself as Clarke rounded the corner and left.

Denae pounced at once. "Oh my God, you two so like each other!"

Lexa shrugged. "But she has a date with another girl, so..." She barely managed to hide her snicker when Sienne and Denae’s mouths moved into pouts.

"You better break it up then," Sienne said as she and Denae walked to Lexa and embraced her. "See you later, kid."

"Bye. Love you." 

Lexa returned their hugs. "Bye guys, love you too."

After they left, Mags stood up. As she hugged Lexa she whispered into her ear, "Have fun tonight. Stay out of trouble."

Lexa grinned over her shoulder. Mags was one of her favorite relatives; she reminded her so much of Lincoln; or rather Lincoln reminded her of Mags. "I will. Love you, Aunt Mags.”

"Love you too. Be a good girl.” She patted Lexa’s cheek before turning, retrieving her jacket and heading out the door.

Lexa fully grinned as she resumed painting. She couldn’t keep a smile off her face for longer than a few seconds. She might have problems with her own parents, but as for the rest of them? She adored them.

And she sure as hell adored Clarke. 

 

\\\

  
Lexa observed her reflection in the bathroom mirror after glancing at the clock to make sure it wasn't yet five thirty. Nerves were dancing in her belly. She was going on her first date with Clarke tonight. While half of her was jumping for joy, the other half was screaming doubts at her. Was this a bad idea? 

 _No, no,_ she reassured herself. After all, she had definitely thought this through. For the past two weeks she'd been wrestling around on the decision as to whether or not she should ask Clarke out. Clarke couldn't have given her a more perfect opportunity to do so. _And now she was about to go on a date with her_ , she thought happily.

Lexa arrived at her mansion/house right on time clutching Clarke’s favorite flowers—sunflowers. Lexa opened the door almost immediately after Lexa rang the doorbell, and Lexa took a sharp intake of breath when she saw her. Clarke wore a white sundress that fluttered above her knees, and her hair hung down her back in a golden, sunlit cascade. She looked more than amazing.

"Hi," said Lexa brilliantly, holding out the flowers.

"Hi yourself," said Clarke, and surprised Lexa by kissing her cheek before taking the flowers and waving them before her nose for a sniff. "These are beautiful, thank you. Let me put them in a vase real fast." 

Clarke darted in and out within ten seconds. She smiled and took Lexa’s hand after she closed and locked the door behind her. "So where are we off to?"

"Your favorite restaurant." Lexa opened the door of truck for her, closing it after Clarke gracefully slid in. 

"Tokyo Garden?" she said excitedly once Lexa climbed into her own seat.

Lexa smiled as she started the car. This was going to be a good night.

Clarke chatted animatedly throughout the drive to the restaurant. An hour later they were laughing as Lexa tried to force-feed her shrimp.

"Come on, try it. It's good!"

"No no no no no!" Clarke laughed, shaking her head and pushing away Lexa’s hand that held the forkful of shrimp. "It's nasty. And now you can't kiss me goodnight because you'll taste like it."

Lexa’s eyes widened theatrically and Clarke laughed harder when she tossed the shrimp away back onto her plate.

Later, as they pulled into the parking lot of the movie theater, Lexa realized she was having a ridiculous amount of fun. This had to be too good to be true. 

Clarke must have noticed her suddenly sorrowful expression when Lexa shut off the engine. "What's wrong?" she asked, and the smile she'd had all evening began to fade.

Lexa turned to look at her. Clarke was so beautiful. Costia had been beautiful, and she had broken Lexa’s heart. 

 _Stop that_ , Lexa ordered, irritated at herself. Why was she doing that? She shouldn't be spoiling a perfect evening just because she'd been hurt.

Lexa smiled at Clarke. "Nothing. I was just thinking about this movie."

Clarke’s smile returned a little. "What about it?" she said, taking off her seatbelt and gathering her purse.

"It looks good, that's all. And I'm scared I won't be able to watch any of it,” said Lexa as the two of them exited the car and headed toward the theater.

"Why's that?" said Clarke. She pleased Lexa by taking her hand and intertwining their fingers. 

Lexa brought her hand up, kissed the back of her knuckles. They began to walk toward the movie theater. "I'm afraid that you won't be able to control yourself and you'll distract me by trying to kiss me every five minutes."

Clarke laughed at that. "Oh, well. I don't put out on the first date you know, and I wouldn't want to ruin our fake first date kiss, so...I promise not to distract you, okay?" 

She lied.

She hadn't lied about the kissing—they really didn't kiss, though Lexa wanted to. But Clarke did end up distracting her because of the way they snuggled and she could feel her warmth against him, could smell her perfume and the shampoo in her soft hair, and Lexa could think of nothing else during the entire movie but her.

Afterward the movie, they shared an ice cream cone as they discussed their favorite parts of the film. Lexa felt a thrill every time she watched Clarke’s tongue sliding over her ice cream, consequently making her feel like both a creep and a pervert, and she suspected Clarke knew by the smile that lingered on her face after every lick. 

And then, all too soon, they were pulling into her driveway and Lexa was walking her to the door.

They walked slowly, but it still seemed like they reached her door quickly. They faced each other. Lexa’s palms felt sweaty, which was stupid because it wasn't like this was their first kiss.

"Thanks for everything. I had fun,” said Clarke softly. Her full lips were curved upward at the corners.

"So did I. Are you sure you don't want me to kiss you goodnight?" As Clarke rolled her eyes and pulled Lexa close to her, Lexa went on, "I mean I know you don't like shrimp..."

"Smart-ass," muttered Clarke before touching her smile to Lexa’s.

Unlike their previous frenzied kissing, this was slow and sweet. The sink-into-each-other kind, where they just seemed to melt together. Though it was gentle, Lexa still had Clarke’s back against the door by the end of it, and Clarke was still breathless as she gazed up at Lexa with dazed cerulean eyes.

"Exactly how many goodnight kisses does one first date entail?” she asked in a husky voice that made Lexa want to wrap her arms around her.

"One more," she said, and kissed her again.

A minute later they withdrew, and Lexa took a reluctant step out of Clarke’s embrace. "Goodnight, Clarke."

"Goodnight, Lexa." she murmured. Clarke smiled at Lexa once more before unlocking her door and stepping out of view.

Lexa resisted the urge to jump up and yell like a giddy teenager as she walked back to her car. Her heart swelled as she drove home. She didn't know what was going on, but whatever it was, she seemed to be falling head over heels for Clarke.

\\\

A thrill rocketed through Clarke’s body when she pulled her car into the drive of the ranch and spotted Lexa crossing the grass toward the nearly-fixed house clutching two baskets of eggs. After their date last night, she'd wanted nothing more than to see her again as quickly as possible. Even texting her hadn't satisfied the need she felt.

She hurried out of her car and hastened to Lexa. Lexa glanced around as though making sure they were alone, then dropped the egg baskets just in time for Clarke to fling her arms around her neck and fix their mouths together.

"Hi," she whispered, drawing back for a moment to smile at Lexa. Though it was still dark out, as it was only just past four in the morning, she could still clearly see the warm green of Lexa’s eyes. 

"Hey," Lexa whispered back, one corner of her lips tugging up first before the other followed, a sweet smile stretching over her face. "How do you look so pretty so early in the morning?"

Oh, Clarke had it bad for this girl. She knew it because Lexa could make her beam and blush at such a cheesy thing to say. 

"I feel dumb for missing you when I just saw you like, five hours ago," she said breathlessly. She tilted her head forward, brushed her lips across Lexa’s. "But, I really missed you. I had fun with you last night."

"I had fun with you too." Lexa’s grin widened. "So much fun, in fact, that I could only sleep about an hour out of the four we had to sleep."

Clarke’s smile twisted ruefully. "Sorry. I couldn't really sleep either, if it's any consolation." Though of course half of that reason was because Finn had finally called her back (after weeks of radio silence) and she'd had to remain awake for another hour and a half explaining to him that she was breaking up with him. 

"It's consolation." Lexa jerked her head toward the baskets on the ground. "I woke up extra early so I could do your chores, too. I thought we could hang out before everyone woke up to start work."

"What about Anya?" she said at once. She and Lexa had already agreed while texting last night that they were going to keep their relationship in the shadows as long as they could so they didn't risk angering Anya. 

"She's not here." Lexa wiggled her brows. "She had a date last night, too. She didn't come home, and won't be until after noon, probably."

Normally probably wasn't good enough, but with Lexa, Clarke would take what she got. "Okay." She kissed her again, lingering this time. "Thanks. Doing my chores, that was nice. I give you points."

Lexa laughed softly, stepped out of her embrace so she could bend down, pick up the baskets. "All right, give me five minutes. I'm going to go put these away."

Clarke nodded, bit her lip in a smile as she watched Lexa walk away. God, she liked her.

And she _wanted_ her. Wanted her lips on hers, wanted Lexa’s hands on her. She wondered if she could seduce her into having a bit of fun with her before everyone woke and it was time to work. It shouldn't be that hard. She was sure Lexa wanted her lips on hers and her hands on her too. Why wouldn't she?

Hmmm. Thinking on the spot, Clarke began to unbutton the jacket she wore, struggling a little to pull her forearms free of the rolled up sleeves. As it was July, she only wore the thing for fashion. She dropped it onto the ground; it was a pure white and would probably ruin. She didn't care. This was more important.

Was this a dumb idea, she absently wondered as she walked several step away from the jacket and towards the horse stables. It was only five hours after their first date and she was already stripping. She shed the over-shirt she wore, leaving her clad only in a thin white tank-top, and let the over-shirt fall to the ground. She walked farther, left a shoe behind. Walked farther still, reached the stables. She left her other shoe and then turned back to admire the trail she'd left. _Nicely done,_ she told herself in satisfaction, and walked into the barn.

It smelled, but then again, everywhere around here did. She was glad that all the horses were out of sight, sleeping. She wasn't sure if she liked horses.

She found a pile of seemingly clean hay and gingerly sat down, bringing her knees together (as she wore a skirt) and up so she could wrap her arms around them. 

Hardly five minutes later, she heard Lexa approaching. She didn't call her name, didn't make much sound at all. In fact, the only reason Clarke even thought she was approaching was because she'd heard the distant sound of a kitchen door quietly closing. She frowned. What if it wasn't Lexa? What if it was one of her cousins? Shit, this probably was a bad idea. What if it was Ontari? She creeped her out. Or it could be one of the little ones. Emori or Otan were probably going to burst in any moment asking Clarke why she’d lost her clothes.

And then Lexa entered the stables, a wry smile on her face. Clarke could swear she saw her eyes darken when she spotted her. 

"What's this?" she said, holding up her jacket with one finger.

Clarke crooked a finger to indicate for her to approach. When Lexa reached her she gripped her by her smooth calves and tugged her down to kneel beside Clarke. Once Lexa was close enough, Clarke locked her arms around her neck, brought her face to hers. 

"I kinda wanted some alone time with the girl I’m crazy about," she murmured against her lips. "Sorry if that's bad.”

"Why would that be bad?" Lexa cupped her face with both hands, ran her fingers down through Clarke’s hair before sliding her lips to her throat. 

"Because we had our first date yesterday." Clarke grinned at the sheer audacity of it.

"So?" Lexa chuckled into her neck. "We've had nearly two months of foreplay now."

"Mmm-hmm." Impatience mingled with the lust as Lexa continued to kiss her neck. "Hey, can you put your hands on me now?"

Lexa’s head jerked up and she caught Clarke’s bottom lip between her teeth before she'd even had the time to blink at the shock. "Don’t rush this. Some things are better savored, don't you think?"

"I can't think," admitted Clarke breathlessly, and it was the truth. It seemed that she was nothing but sensation. Slowly, Lexa lifted a hand to Clarke’s chest. She trembled and marveled over that fact. She rarely trembled. In the many months she'd dated Finn, he'd never once made her tremble.

"Thinking is overrated anyway,” said Lexa, and then her mouth was moving with Clarke’s again and Clarke forgot why she ever needed to think again. 

"Ahem."

Clarke and Lexa both quite literally jumped a foot in the air at the sound of Lincoln clearing his voice. They looked up to see him standing a few feet away watching them with an amused look, swinging one of Clarke's shoes from two fingers.

"I knew it. I told Nyko that you guys would get together. He owes me twenty bucks. He didn't think it would happen until after the house was done."

"Uh, Linc—" Lexa began, but Lincoln only shook his head.

"Don't worry, Lex, I'm not going to tell Anya." 

Lexa blew out a breath. "Thanks."

Clarke, meanwhile, felt suddenly vulnerable, in only a short miniskirt and a thin tank top. She squirmed to the right so that she was discreet behind Lexa. 

"Here." Lincoln kicked Clarke's over-shirt to her while Lexa handed her the jacket. "I'd get out of here, you two. Anya called and said she would be back in five."

Lexa spared a grateful grin at Lincoln’s retreating back. "Thanks, Linc."

"No problem. You made me twenty bucks."

Clarke exchanged a relieved, amused expression with Lexa as she pulled her shirt on. 

\\\

Over the course of the next couple weeks, Clarke and Lexa tried to keep their relationship in the shadows a bit so they could avoid hearing Anya's disapproval, but after Otan and Emori caught them kissing behind the barn it became impossible. Which was better, actually, because now they could hold hands and be affectionate anywhere anytime. Except around Ontari, who constantly made snide remarks, and Anya…though honestly, they’d gotten lucky with that situation. Lexa and Anya had argued for almost an hour, Anya’s shouts loud enough to startle the horses. Clarke heard a great deal of “spoiled rotten brat,” “she was only supposed to work here!” and “sleeping with the enemy” (that one had really made her scoff because, God, this wasn’t a lifetime movie about war or something), but eventually she and Lexa had fallen quiet and walked out of the house. Anya shot them a dirty look but said nothing, and Lexa had a spring in her step as she bounded over to Clarke and pecked a kiss on her cheek. That had been that. Now they just avoided being overly affectionate whenever Anya was around. It’s not like they could go overboard with the PDA anyway; there were children around, after all.

Right now, though, Anya was busy tending to the cattle, and all the children were out fishing at the pond with some of the older kids, so Clarke and Lexa were free to walk to the horse stables hand-in-hand. The horses still made Clarke kind of nervous, but Lexa was sweet as she helped her groom them. 

"I think he likes me," said Clarke with a nervous giggle as she moved the brush down Runnerbean, white and gray and apparently growing comfortable with Clarke’s presence.

"I like you." Lexa smiled, brushing her lips across Clarke’s. "Are we going out tonight?"

"I was thinking you just come over, we put a movie in, and not watch it at all." Clarke smiled when Lexa arched a brow in intrigue.

"I'm game. Try to keep your hands off me this time."

Clarke rolled her eyes. Ever since their third date—approximately four days ago—when they had went to see another movie and she'd accidentally grazed her hand across the front of Lexa’s shorts when she went to grab the soda from the armrest, since she'd already drank all of hers, Lexa had been teasing her about it. It would be funnier if Lexa weren’t teasing her in other ways. She was so damn hot, and it was hard enough being around her every day, watching her work, her sweaty sun-tanned skin shining, her muscles moving, her tattoos looking positively…lickable.

Clarke wasn’t used to waiting so long, but Lexa was the first person to make Clarke’s heart pound and butterflies attack her stomach. She really liked Lexa. She didn’t want to screw that up. For the first time, she wanted to take it slow.

"You do know that if I ever actually put my hands on you, you'll know without a shadow of a doubt. Right?" said Clarke as she moved to brush the horse's flank.

"Yes," said Lexa, moving with her. "But it's more tempting when you're near a bed.” Clarke rolled her eyes skyward again. Lexa grinned. "I'll be there at eight then."

At seven fifty-five, Lexa arrived. Clarke already had the bowl of popcorn set out on the table. 

"Hi," she said, kissing her cheek. Lexa always did that, even if they'd seen each other only an hour ago.

"Hey,” said Clarke, taking Lexa’s hand and leading her to the couch. She put in the movie (the new Star Wars, Lexa’s current favorite) and then went to make them glasses of water while the commercials were on. When she reentered she turned off the lights, set their glasses on the table and eased down beside Lexa, snuggling into her after she draped a black wool blanket around them.

"Daisy Ridley is so hot," commented Clarke once they were settled.

Lexa tightened her arms around her. "You’re the hottest one in this room, though.”

Clarke groaned as she rolled her eyes this time, though she couldn’t resist the smile creeping up on her face. “Can you try not to be a total cheeseball for just one minute of the day? Maybe?”

Lexa’s returning smile was practically smug. “You think it’s cute. This is the charm that made you crush on me in the first place.”

Clarke’s cheeks tinted pink at that. She knew Lexa only meant to date, but…still. She liked Lexa a lot, and that made things feel way more serious than she was used to feeling.

“Of course, we can argue that it’s your charm that made me crush on you first.”

Clarke snorted. “What, me being a bitch after running my car into your house?”

“It worked for me,” said Lexa innocently. Clarke laughed.

“I still feel bad about it, you know,” she confessed, though she was still smiling as she met Lexa’s gaze in the darkened living room. “It wasn’t you. I was just freaking out that my mom was going to cut me off. She already almost has before.”

“For what?” asked Lexa curiously.

Clarke sighed; she didn’t want to get into a heavy discussion right now, not when they were having fun and exchanging light-hearted smiles. “Breaking the rules. I kept missing curfew because I was out partying with Rae and O.” It wasn’t a lie, though it definitely wasn’t the whole story. Truthfully, it was because Clarke’s step-sister was evil and ratted Clarke out when she drank so much at Octavia’s house that she put a Wii remote through the big-screen TV while bowling and then accidentally pushed Bellamy out the kitchen window when they were playfully wrestling around, breaking all the glass, and _then_ had the bright idea to take the Porsche out for a drive and crashed it into a tree in the front yard. Clarke’s mother had been furious, but fortunately O and Bellamy’s mother Aurora had been surprisingly cool about it all.

"Huh." Lexa said thoughtfully. "Good thing Anya’s a merciful saint and didn’t try to sue you, then." She winked.

Anya. A saint. _Oh please,_ Clarke thought with a roll of her eyes, but inside she was glowing. Lexa’s chestnut hair was loose and tumbled around her shoulders in soft waves, her face was smooth and devoid of makeup, her eyes were open and bright. She was absolutely gorgeous, and better than that, she was sweet and smart and funny, and inexplicably Clarke was glad, and not for the first time, that she’d ran her car through a farmhouse.

They watched the movie to the point where Han Solo finally boarded the spaceship (“It’s not just a spaceship, it’s the Millennium Falcon,” said Lexa, her suffering tone emphasized by the way she deadpanned Clarke) before Clarke tugged on Lexa's shirt to bring her face down to hers.

She was beginning to think she was addicted to kissing Lexa. Her lips were soft and plump, her tongue was the stuff of dreams, she tasted amazing, and she _felt_ amazing every time they kissed, and Clarke just never wanted to stop. Ever.

Lexa gently urged forward, driving Clarke to her back on the couch. Clarke’s head rested comfortably on the armchair. The blanket twisted itself around her legs as she hooked them around Lexa's waist, bringing them flush together. Clarke’s heart was pounding and she could feel Lexa’s racing similarly as she trailed a hand down her chest and over a breast, causing Lexa to shudder atop her. Lexa kissed her neck, and Clarke sighed, very nearly purring with contentment.

It didn’t take long before things were getting heavy. Their bodies were flush together and Clarke was straddling one of Lexa’s legs and she couldn’t resist lifting it, pressing her thigh against Clarke. Clarke’s gasp caught against Lexa’s neck, turned into a soft moan as Lexa moved her leg again, stomach aching in need at the feeling of heat against her thigh. Clarke’s hips canted, and Lexa’s hips bucked, and holy shit if this lasted a moment longer they would be ripping clothes off.

"Hey...wait,” said Lexa, disoriented. Clarke’s fingers were curled in on her jean belt loops, tugging slightly. Clarke quickly pulled back her hands and sat up. "I don’t…I don’t want to go too far.”

Clarke sat back abruptly, blowing her hair out of her eyes. Okay, yeah, they should. That was the plan anyway, that was the smart way to go about this. Actually, what would be really smart would be to just talk to Lexa…tell her how she really felt. Clarke’s heart hammered against her rib cage.

Clarke dragged a hand through her hair, an uncertain expression flickering across her face. "Yeah, you’re right. Um…one month plan, right? Although honestly…can I tell you something?”

"What?"

Clarke gave her a tiny smile, her teeth in her bottom lip. "A month might not be long enough.”

 

Lexa beamed.

They eventually settled back into couch, Lexa brushing a soft kiss across Clarke’s forehead. She took in a steadying breath as she snuggled Lexa, resting her head on her chest. There was still an uneasiness swirling around inside her. She should be honest. For the first time in her life, she wanted to be honest about her feelings. Wanted to tell Lexa that she’d never felt this way about any other person, that no other person had ever made her feel so…safe. Cared for. Appreciated. _Lo—_

But she couldn’t. The idea of opening up…it was terrifying.

So she kept her mouth shut and held Lexa tighter.

\\\

“Oh my God, Lexa, I don’t want to do this.”

“Clarke, you’re being dramatic,” said Lexa lightly. “She’s not going to kill you.”

“Really?” Clarke deadpanned her. “Your apparently very strict aunt who everyone seems to be terrified of is not going to murder the spoiled rich girl who fell asleep at the wheel and drove her car through the precious house made by her late husband?”

“I mean…she might punch you in the face. Just a little. I’m just kidding,” said Lexa hastily when Clarke’s eyes widened. “Look, seriously, it’ll be fine. Anya’s been keeping her updated with progress reports and she said the house needed repainted anyway. She’s not so bothered about one wall of the house having to be rebuilt.”

“No, but she is upset her porch swing was ruined,” said Clarke in a small voice. She doesn’t blame her. Lexa had shown her pictures; it was a beautiful swing.

“Well…yeah,” admitted Lexa. “She can never get that back. But she’s mostly just relieved no one was hurt, Clarke.”

Clarke sighed, shaking her head and taking a sharp turn into the road leading to town. "Screw supplies. Let's go mess around."

Lexa looked out the window at the Mcdonalds they drove by; her stomach rumbled. "Let's eat dinner, too.”

"Good. I'm starving.”

Ten minutes later they pulled into an Arby's. As they ate, Clarke began to relax. They laughed over the fact that Anya was going to be severely annoyed when she discovered they'd skipped out on the supply run. She wasn’t as scary as she used to be, though part of that reason was because Clarke had caught her with her hands up her girlfriend (Luna, Lexa later told her)’s shirt in the bathroom. Anya was furious but couldn’t quite meet Clarke’s eyes after that.

Even Ontari was better, though that probably had something to do with Lexa finally losing patience with her snide comments and shoving her into the mud where the pigs were lounging.

All in all, Clarke had come to love this little ranch. She still wasn’t a huge fan of the chickens, but she’d grown fond of Runnerbean and some of the cats, and Lincoln and the others really did make her feel like part of the family. She was even better with waking up at the crack of dawn. She was almost dreading the end of this summer; it meant they were no longer working together, and Lexa would be returning to Polis.

Of course, there was a simple solution. She just needed to ask Lexa to be her girlfriend.

That was the most terrifying thing yet.

 

\\\

 

The knowledge that Indra would soon be returning from her trip visiting her daughter Gaia sent the whole ranch into a frenzy working. Clarke was still fretting, but Lexa was confident Indra would be fine. She knew Anya hadn’t spent the entire time bad-mouthing Clarke; after all, Clarke’s attitude and work ethic had greatly improved since she and Lexa first became friends, and everyone around the ranch was now quite friendly with her, and Anya, however stern she may be, was also honest.

No, Lexa wasn't worried about the ranch. What she was concerned about was their relationship.

Not too long from now and Lexa would be returning to Polis to attend university, and Clarke…Clarke would still be here. Lexa didn’t know what this meant, and they were both careful not to talk about it, both nervous as to what the other felt. Personally, Lexa was scared it would push Clarke into admitting this was nothing more than a fun summer fling to her…she was out of Lexa’s league, after all. But it was getting harder not to admit her true feelings to Clarke. That she was head over heels for her, and that she didn’t want this to end.

 Of course, it didn't help that Ontari gave her shit at literally every opportunity. Such as now, when Indra was due back any minute. Ontari waited until they crossed paths in the stables and then decided to resume her endless nettling about Lexa landing a brat as a girlfriend, except one problem: _Clarke wasn't her girlfriend yet._

“You don’t know anything about anything, Ontari.”

“I knew plenty of shit.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Like what? The fact that you want her to be your _girlfriend_ ,” mocked Ontari, mouth curling into a grin.

“No I don’t,” snapped Lexa, ears tipped red.

Ontari raised her brows. “No? So what’s, it’s just some summer fling?”

“Yes,” lied Lexa through gritted teeth. Of course it wasn’t, but she didn’t want to admit this to Ontari—she wanted to say it to Clarke first, no one else.

“Hmm.” Ontari hummed, pursing her lips, looking far too smug. “I bet Clarke would be very interested to hear that.” Then her eyes slid off somewhere to Lexa’s right, and Lexa’s heart plummeted right down to her toes. Uh oh.

She turned to see Clarke standing there. She caught just a glimpse of the devastation on her face before she quickly wiped it clean, replacing it with a carefully indifferent expression. She walked forward, arms laden with sacks of horse feed.

“Hey guys, what’s up?”

“Clarke, what did you think about what Lexa just said?” asked Ontari pointedly, ignoring Lexa’s horror-struck expression.

“What about it?” she said brightly to Ontari, who frowned. “There’s nothing wrong with a little summer romance.”

“But Clarke—“ began Lexa, but Clarke cut her off.

“No, seriously,” she said, voice suspiciously cheery. Ontari gave an _oomph!_ as Clarke stopped in front of her and roughly shoved the bag of feed into her arms before turning to face Lexa and dropping a kiss to her cheek. “We said a month, anyway. It’s whatever, honestly, it doesn’t even matter.”

She gave Lexa what Lexa was sure she intended to be a gentle smile, but it came out as more of a grimace.

“No, wait, Clarke, it’s not what—“ protested Lexa, but Clarke was already hurrying off. Lexa rounded on Ontari, who was snickering even as she staggered over to the nearest stable to drop the feed down. “What the fuck was that? You just hurt her feelings, you asshole.”

“I think you’ll find that _you_ just hurt her feelings, not me,” said Ontari with a shrug. “I didn’t make you lie.”

Lexa groaned, scrubbing her hands over her face. “I just didn’t want you to be the first person I told! I wanted to tell _Clarke_ first. Jesus!”

Lexa hurried out of the stables to catch up with Clarke, feeling, frankly, a bit nauseated.

“Clarke, wait! Whatever you heard, that—that wasn’t what it sounded like.”

“Lexa, it’s fine,” said Clarke wearily, avoiding Lexa’s eyes as she bent down to grab another sack of feed. “Honestly, I’m relieved.”

“But it’s—wait.” Lexa frowned. “You’re relieved? Why? Why would you be relieved?”

“Because I don’t want to be girlfriends either.” Lexa’s insides went cold as she halted in her tracks; Clarke walked past her, still saying casually, “You’re heading back to Polis after this and, honestly, maybe this...maybe this is for the best.”

“Clarke?” said Lexa weakly. She swallowed, a lump in her throat. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying we shouldn’t be naïve about this. We live in two totally different worlds.”

“Your friends don't seem to think so,” said Lexa stiffly; just the other night she, Clarke, Wells, Raven, and Octavia had crammed onto the couch at Octavia’s house to binge-watch season 2 of One Day at a Time. “And I know my family don’t…” And it was the truth. A lot had changed in the past two months; Clarke wasn’t putting up a rich asshole front, and the others weren’t constantly calling her Princess and giving her hell. Even Emori and Otan were joining the other kids in watching Clarke in amazement as she showed them how to draw a perfect cartoon portrait of a pig in the mud outside of the stables. Hell, even Anya didn’t scowl at Clarke most days anymore.

But apparently Clarke could still put up a front, because she just shrugged and turned her back to Lexa as she kept on toward the stables. After a beat Lexa followed her, still scowling.

“Look, it’s just time we call this what it is. We have chemistry, we’re both stuck together on this ranch, whatever. After today, we won’t really see each other again.”

Lexa stood in the doorway, mouth falling open, her heart sinking. Unless this wasn’t a front. Surely if it was, Clarke wouldn’t dare suggest… stuck together? Is that really how she felt? And after today, she never wanted to see Lexa again?

Even Ontari stilled, watching them in mild alarm.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

Clarke slammed the feed down and sighed, turning around to eye Lexa with cold exasperation. “There’s nothing to even break up, Lexa. I’m not your girlfriend, remember?”

“I…” Lexa swallowed again, her eyes stinging as doubts crept in to plague her. Perhaps this meant more to her than Clarke. Maybe…

Maybe.

That was all it took.

She nodded once before spinning on her heel and hastening away before Clarke could see them fall.

Clarke, meanwhile, did her best to fight her own tears as she busied herself with ripping open the sacks of feed. She felt like an idiot. Here she was, nervously thinking about how she was going to ask Lexa to officially be her girlfriend tonight, and Lexa didn’t want to her girlfriends in the first place. It was a summer fling and Clarke had fooled herself into thinking it was more. It hurt. If she didn’t feel like she owed a debt to Indra, she would have already left.

“Uh…what the hell, Princess? Are you fucking dumb or what?”

Clarke immediately scowled, turning to face her least favorite cousin of Lexa’s. “Excuse me?”

“Uh, hello!” Ontari looks at her with her eyes maddeningly wide, as if she can’t even comprehend Clarke’s level of stupid. “Of course you both want to be girlfriends! Why are you being dumbasses about it?”

“No we don’t,” snapped Clarke. “I heard her earlier. She said this was a—“

“A summer fling, yeah, duh, but she didn’t mean it. She was just giving me shit because I was giving her shit. Do you seriously not see the heart eyes she gives you? It’s disgusting.”

Clarke sucked in a breath, heart picking up. “But…”

“No buts, that’s how it is,” said Ontari crossly before visibly relaxing, rolling her eyes and snatching the feed from Clarke. “Now you’ve just done a fantastic job of making her feel like she never meant anything to you, which is pretty fucking stupid considering we all can see _your_ heart eyes too. You’re an impulsive, guarded idiot.”

Clarke opened her mouth and closed it, no sound coming out. Fuck, she was an idiot.

“How do I fix it?” she said at last.

Ontari snorted. “Just fucking talk to her, numbskull. Grow a pair and be honest with her.”

“Hey!” They turned, argument interrupted, when Lincoln’s shouts drifted into the stables. They peeked out to see him waving toward them. “Indra’s back! Come on, Indra’s back!”

Clarke gulped. Ontari smirked. “You’re fucked, all right. Let’s go, Casanova.”

\\\

 

Lexa stood with slightly red-rimmed eyes as her aunt Indra climbed out of the car Anya had picked her up in and then stood there taking in the house with an unreadable expression. All of Lexa’s cousins piled around her, watching closely with bated breath.

Without a word, Indra looked into the crowd and zeroed in on the unfamiliar blonde standing amidst it. Indra walked forward until she stood directly before her.

“So you’re the girl who drove her car into my house,” said Indra, surveying Clarke with as much dryness as her words.

“Um.” Clarke cleared her throat, lifting her chin high; it reminded Lexa of how she’d acted when she first met her, cool and aloof. She stepped forward apprehensively, hoping Clarke didn’t think she needed to act that way—she could be real, be herself, she didn’t need to put on this front. She stilled, lips parting in a relieved smile, when Clarke said, “Yes. I apologize for the damage I’ve caused—both physically to the house, and emotionally, to you—to all of you. I’m sorry.”

Everyone waited with bated breath as Indra simply stared at Clarke; then, to general shock, Indra smiled.

“My Gustus always said accidents happen.” She leaned in closer, causing Clarke to lean closer to in intrigue to catch the next words Indra conspiratorially whispered to her, “That’s how we ended up with Gaia.”

“Ugh, Aunt Indra!” a few people complained, shaking their heads when Indra laughed.

“Oh come on,” said Indra, still chuckling. “I can’t tease my niece’s new girlfriend?”

Lexa’s heart started pounding in her ears, particularly when she saw the way Clarke stiffened.

“Actually, we aren’t girlfriends,” said Lexa quickly before Clarke was forced in an awkward situation.

Now Indra frowned, raising a brow as she looked between them. “I was told you are together. Why is this?”

“Um…she just…it’s not…”

Lexa paused when Clarke turned; her expression made her fall silent, eyes wide.

Clarke looked at Lexa with wide, shimmering eyes. “Wait a minute, wait. Listen. Lexa, I've told you before that I do stupid things. Since I met you, I’ve been trying to change that.” Passion spurred her to move forward, to grip Lexa's hand. "I'm trying now. I see things differently now. I'm _trying,_ Lexa," she repeated, her voice straining as Lexa just stared at her, lips parted and eyes wide. Clarke tugged on her hand, jolted Lexa back to meet her gaze. "For you. I'm trying for _you_. I want to _be_ with you."

Lexa’s gut twisted when the tears overflowed Clarke’s eyes. "I want to be with you because you make me happy," she said slowly, quietly. "Because I can watch TV with you, and talk while I watch. We can drive and I forget to turn on the radio because I love talking to you. I can lay with you in the grass and get you to look up at the sky with me even if there aren't any clouds. I can lay with you on my couch for hours and I don't want to get up even when my back is killing me. You let me eat my own dessert, and you don't get mad when I spray perfume in your car. We can talk about things like whether Spongebob and Patrick were gay, and the racist, sexist, homophobic, corrupt society we live in. We can talk about reincarnation and constellations and whether or not McDonald’s is a secret ploy to reduce population by causing cancer with its mold-less robot food. You make me laugh and you make me want to get out of bed in the morning. You make me feel _happy._ " She took a step forward. "You're the only person I can be around where I can be myself. That’s why I…I want you to be my girlfriend.”

The crowd “awwwed” and Clarke ignored them, blushing furiously, watching the way Lexa’s eyes widen and she gapes at her.

“You…you do?”

“Yes, Lexa. Unless…” She faltered, swallowing thickly, her brows knitting. “Unless you don’t feel the same way.”

Various people around them smirked and rolled their eyes, Lexa included. “Of course I do, you nerd. I’m falling in love with you.”

It was Clarke’s turn to goggle now. “You are?”

“Yes,” said Lexa, not even exasperation in her voice; she was patient and her eyes were soft as she approached Clarke, wrapped her up in her arms. “You have the biggest heart and you care about your loved ones so much. You’re brilliant and sassy and you keep me on my toes every day. You make me believe I can actually do the things I’ve always dreamed of doing. You make me want to be a better person. You literally crashing into my life is the best thing to ever happen to me, Clarke.” The crowd “awwww”’d again.

“Fuck,” stammered Clarke, eyes brimming over with the swell of emotion. She smoothed Lexa’s collars with her hands just for something to do, at a loss for words with the happiness bursting inside her. Her heart pounded when Lexa’s lips tilt in a crooked smirk.

“You would,” said Lexa, and then she kissed her, swallowing Clarke’s laughter.

“Jesus, it’s about time. That was the gayest fucking shit I’ve ever seen,” Ontari muttered in a voice loud enough to carry to everyone; nearly everyone nodded in agreement.

“Language,” added Indra crossly, a smile still lingering on her face as she watched Clarke and Lexa.  


\\\  


The sun was setting by the time Indra called them into the house for a meal. They crowded around the table, everyone mercilessly teasing Lexa and Clarke for being so damn gay as they dug into an admittedly subpar meal cooked by Anya, who is teased by Clarke for the dry ham until Lexa reminds Clarke of the ham she’d burnt before they started dating.

“I can’t believe you’re my girlfriend,” confessed Clarke as she curled up with Lexa on the couch, holding hands, waving on occasion when someone would shout a congrats and a goodnight to them as they headed out.

“Gee thanks,” teased Lexa. Clarke rolled her eyes.

“Not like that. I mean you’re just…you’re the sweetest. I’m lucky to have you.”

“I think I’m the lucky one,” said Lexa happily, snuggling closer to Clarke. “Not only do I get the best girlfriend ever, but the fact that we might be a lot closer soon? Even better.”

And Clarke knew what Lexa meant—she was referring to the fact that Clarke had applied to Polis University, the same college Lexa was attending—but Clarke couldn’t resist.

“Mmm.” She deliberately lowered her voice, turning to brush her lips across Lexa’s ear. “Exactly how close are you planning on getting to me tonight?” She actually felt the ear grow warm against her mouth as Lexa blushed.

“Um.” Lexa made an audible swallow. “Clarke. Aunt Indra is literally in the next room…”

Clarke’s lips curved. “And she’s in a _very_ good mood.”

And she was, truthfully; because Clarke’s secret project she’d been working on this entire time finally came to fruition. She had (with the help of Lincoln, and even Wells, who used his father’s connections to buy certain outdated materials) remade the porch swing Gustus had made for Indra, using an old photograph for reference. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t exact likeness, but it was beautiful, and had brought the biggest smile to Indra’s face.

Add that to the fact that Clarke had actually spoken to her mother for the first time in months and agreed to weekly dinners with her if she helped her buy out the Trikru ranch and land out from under the Wallaces, finally getting out of the hole Cage Wallace had burrowed them into when he blackmailed them into signing over the deed after being ‘injured on the job’ when working as a ranch hand (all as an underhanded ploy for his father to gain control of the land to make use of their oil rigs), and the entire ranch was positively on cloud nine.

Most of all Lexa. Lexa was beyond cloud nine, she was practically living in a city of lights now, with Clarke at her side, beautiful and hers.

“Did I already tell you I’m falling in love with you?” breathed Lexa, nuzzling her nose to Clarke’s.

Clarke smiled, eyes fluttering shut as she leaned in. “Yes, but you can tell me again.”

“I’m falling in love with you.”

“Back at you, Commander."

"Now can I take you home?" murmured Lexa, lips drifting across Clarke's.

Clarke sighed, brushing her smile across Lexa's. "You know, I feel like you already have."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, there it is. Thanks for reading! I hope it entertained you even though it's kinda terribly written considering this is nearly 10 years old and I was young when I wrote it, but I thought it'd be at least a fun, silly little thing for Clexaweek.
> 
> If you'd like a (much) better quality work, I also wrote a smutty one-shot too for Clexaweek2018, here's the link. http://archiveofourown.org/works/13833786


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